.•Vl ' 



Swv 






'^ ^:\ 



',. <^' 



.-^^ 



.'^' 






A^^ 



^^. ^ 



^. .-^ 






V .v\^ 



•f^/. V 



.\^ 



■-*. 










/ 






u 




^^ Ci 






vV 






\^ 



\' 






.^•^^ 



.--^ 



■N^ 



.\^ 



^'\" :^\'' 



S^^.. 



.0^ 



^^^■ 



: N^ 



-^^ 



aN 



-. v^^ 




\^^^, 
















,c^^' 



^'^ .v' *-..r^35u, -^ . '^ 









\0 



^;/^"^% -^^ ^ 






o>- 



vV 'c^ 



o> 



\' .^^ 



^.^ 
S^^^. 



^^'' "-. 



V 



A^^' -^"^^^W- 



i,. 



SOPHIE 



PLAYS BY 
PHILIP MOELLER 

MADAME SAND 

FIVE SOMEWHAT HISTORICAL PLAYS 

MOLIERE 

SOPHIE 



SOPHIE 



A COMEDY 

BY PHILIP MOELLER 

it 



WITH A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER BY 

CARL VAN VECHTEN 



". . . la seule courtisane de Vage 
d'or des filles: Sophie Arnould" 

De Goncourt. 




NEW YORK: ALFRED • A • KNOPF 



COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY 
PHILIP MOELLER 



In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading 
public only, and no performances of it may be given without 
the permission of the author who may be addressed in care of 
the publisher. Any piracy or infringement will be prosecuted in 
accordance with the penalties provided by the United States 
Statutes : — 

Sec. 4966. — Any person publicly performing or representing 
any dramatic or musical composition, for which copyright has 
been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of the said 
dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs or assigns, shall be 
liable for damages therefor, such damages in all cases to be 
assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the 
first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to the 
Court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and 
representation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons 
shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction be im- 
prisoned for a period not exceeding one year. — U. S. Revised 
Statutes, Title 60, Chap. 3. 



©CI.A576045 



AUG 14 1920 



To 

CARL VAN VECHTEN 

Who first gave me the key to 

Sophie's dressing room 

and to 

EMILY STEVENS 

Who was waiting when the 

knob was turned. 



A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER 

One of the favourite theories of the somewhat 
overrated George Henry Lewes has it that the ap- 
plause vouchsafed the actor, the interpreter, is pro- 
portionately much greater during his lifetime than 
that allotted to the creative artist, because the inter- 
preter disappears when he dies and is forgotten, 
while the great creative artist lives in his work even 
after death, his fame rolling up with the passing 
generations. It is no purpose of mine entirely to 
discredit this theory, but the fact remains that 
there are actors who have a longer lease on fame 
than equally worthy creative artists. The irony 
lies in the axiom that the creative artist who is the 
most applauded by his contemporaries is usually 
the soonest to be forgotten by succeeding centuries, 
while the actor who is the most applauded while 
he is yet alive is the longest remembered by those 
who come after. And if you make up a com- 
parative list of players and playwrights of past 
periods who still haunt the memory and the imag- 
ination, I am willing to wager that the list of actors 
will be the longer one. Nell Gwyn, David Gar- 
rick, Mrs. Siddons, Clairon, Peg Woffington, Edwin 
Booth, Lotta, Salvini, and Rachel have so impressed 

vii 



viii A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER 

themselves on the popular consciousness through 
their lives and the accounts of them which still ex- 
ist, that they have taken as definite a place in the 
minds and hearts of the people as the great char- 
acters of fiction, Sancho Panza, Mr. Pickwick, Tar- 
tarin, Bazarov, and Daisy Miller. We need have 
no fear, to introduce a modern note, that the name 
of Sarah Bernhardt, the French Jewess, who defied 
the laws of the Theatre Frangais, who defied the 
laws of society to such an extent that on one still- 
celebrated occasion she permitted her actual lover, 
Jean Richepin, to enact the role of her stage lover 
in his own piece, Nana-Sahib, who defied the 
laws of Nature, making her audience forget that 
Marguerite Gautier was seventy-five years old and 
had but one leg — we need have no fear, I say, that 
this name is not a thousand times more eternal and 
amaranthine than that of Victorien Sardou, in 
whose dramas she won the suffrage of the great pub- 
lic. Her epitaph, indeed, might be that which Vol- 
taire, or another, wrote for Adrienne Lecouvreur: 

'^'Uopinioji etoit si forte 
Quelle devoit toujour s durer; 
Qu apres merrie quelle fut morte. 
On refusa de renterrer." 

Not the least of the names that have come down 
to us from the mauve and pale-green past of the 
exquisite eighteenth century is that of the extraor- 



A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER ix 

dinary Sophie Arnould, whose fragrant cogno- 
men might have been perpetuated alone through 
Gluck's famous remark that without her he never 
could have presented his Iphigenie en Aulide to 
Paris. But aside from her eminence as the greatest 
lyric artist of her period, she was very beautiful 
and very witty, and the details of her life were 
dramatic and intriguing enough to have furnished 
material for a score of epic poems and romances. 
What verses Alexander Pope might have composed 
in honour of the goings on of Sophie, had Clio per- 
mitted him to live a little later! Mademoiselle 
Arnould was the friend of the great men of her 
day: Beaumarchais, Marmontel, Duclos, Helve- 
tius, Diderot, even Benjamin Franklin, all came to 
her salon. Jean Jacques Rousseau visited her at 
least once, and Voltaire's appearance on her hearth- 
stone assumes, in its historical guise, almost the 
semblance of a pilgrimage. Her wit won their at- 
tention, and her humanity their hearts. Her 
tongue, when at its best, was capable of producing 
masterpieces of word humour; her less acceptable 
sallies were made in the form of paronomasia. 
These epigrams wormed their way into many eigh- 
teenth-century volumes of recollections, memoirs, 
and letters, and after her death they were collected 
and issued under the title, Arnoldiana. Many 
of them are still in daily use in France. 

The artists of the epoch all desired to reproduce 



X A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER 

Sophie's beauty. Greuze'^s portrait is perhaps the 
most adorable of the list. This picture also repre- 
sents Greuze at a better advantage than the more 
celebrated Cruche Cassee in the Louvre. The early 
engravings of this Broken Pitcher, by the way, were 
dedicated by the painter to Mademoiselle Amould. 
Greuze, of course, does not suggest the Iphigenie; 
it is in La Tour's portrait that we recognize the 
great tragic actress. There is further a bust by 
Houdon which, when the revolutionists burst into 
her house, once served Sophie in good stead. She 
dubbed the head Marat and saved her own. 

Sophie Arnould was bom in Paris, February 14, 
1740. Her parents appear to have been respect- 
able members of the upper middle class; her 
mother, indeed, was a frequenter of literary circles 
and enjoyed the acquaintance of men who inspired 
her with an ambition to give her daughter a thor- 
ough education. So Sophie studied reading and 
writing, foreign languages, the spinet, and singing. 
At the age of ten, or thereabouts, her charm, her 
wit, her beauty, and her talent attracted the atten- 
tion of the Princess of Modena, who thereafter 
made herself responsible for the child's educa- 
tion. 

It was the custom of the period, more fashion- 
able than pious, for ladies of the great world to se- 
clude themselves in convents during the latter part 
of Lent. At the beginning of Holy Week, 1757, 



A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER xi 

the Princess arrived at the Abbey of Panthemont 
to discover the sisters in a state of consternation. 
They included in their numbers a nun with an ex- 
ceptionally beautiful voice who had been counted 
on to supply the music during the retreat but she 
had been taken ill. On Wednesday fashionable 
Paris would come to hear the Tenebrae and there 
was no one to sing it. The Princess offered Sophie 
as a solution, and the following day when she sang 
the Miserere of Lalande the church was crowded, 
so quickly had travelled the news of the girl's re- 
markable singing. The Queen heard of this and 
sent for Sophie; Madame de Pompadour heard of 
this and sent for Sophie. The Queen desired So- 
phie for her private choir, but the King, through 
the royal mistress, destined her for the Academic 
Royale de Musique. Now it was common knowl- 
edge that those who entered the stage door of the 
Opera were forced to leave behind an indispensable 
part of the definition of the word maiden. Sophie's 
mother, therefore^ strove to conceal her daughter 
in a convent, but, in view of the circumstances, it 
was impossible to find an abbess willing to brave 
the anger of royalty and its mistress. Sophie, ac- 
cordingly, was engaged at the Opera. At first it 
was intended that she should become a member of 
the sacred choir connected with that institution, but 
talent was at a low ebb. Looking for a novelty to 
stir the pulse of the apathetic public, the directors 



xii A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER 

injected Sophie into an opera-ballet called Les 
Amours des Dieux on December 15, 1757. The 
singer made her debut at the age of seventeen and 
was immediately launched on a brilliantly success- 
ful career. 

In the meantime her father had become an inn- 
keeper, and a charming Norman painter, hight 
Dorval, became a paying guest at his house. Dor- 
val's linen was of the finest; his taste in dress ex- 
quisite. Indeed he must have been quite as opera- 
comique as the farmers and shepherdesses of the 
Trianon. Nevertheless, in spite of the huge bas- 
kets of game and fruit which arrived from day to 
day, the Amoulds seem to have suspected nothing 
until the morning dawned when both Sophie and 
Dorval were missing. A little later Arnould pere 
received a letter in which Dorval unmasked and 
appeared in his true character as Louis Leon Fe- 
licite de Brancas, Comte de Lauraguais. He 
adored Sophie, he asseverated, and when his wife 
died he would marry her. By way of warning to 
parents who credit such promises, I might state 
that the Comtesse de Lauraguais only expired on 
the guillotine some half century later. The love 
of the Comte and Sophie continued unabated for a 
few years; then there came a break. During one 
of his absences Sophie packed her two sons and all 
the Comte's presents into a carriage and dispatched 
them to the Comtesse, who established the duties of 



A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER xiii 

wronged wives for all time by retaining the chil- 
dren and bringing them up with her own and re- 
turning the presents. Later Sophie presented the 
Comte with two more children. In fact periodi- 
cally they renewed their romance, the one grand 
passion in both their lives, although both were as 
inconstant as rabbits and guinea pigs and for 
every new lover of Sophie's Lauraguais retaliated 
with a new mistress. But they remained friends 
until death parted them, a fact to which Sophie's 
last letter to the Comte bears touching and con- 
vincing evidence. 

The reader may believe that Mr. Moeller has 
resorted to burlesque in his quaint picture of 
Lauraguais but, judging by the facts, I feel, on the 
contrary, that he has underdrawn rather than over- 
drawn this strange character of whom Voltaire 
wrote, "He has all possible talents and all possible 
eccentricities." He did write plays, mad five- 
act tragedies, and insane comedies, and it is per- 
fectly true that his pamphlet on inoculation, which 
at that period was considered as a form of black 
magic, did cause his detention at Metz. The Comte 
further dabbled in chemistry and anatomy, endeav- 
oured to bring about reforms in the theatre, and 
even became a gentleman jockey. He was con- 
stantly running into collision with royalty and the 
courts ; he was one of the early aristocratic radicals. 
He was a delicious whimsical paraphrase of the 



xiv A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER 

eighteenth century encyclopedist and it is to his un- 
fading credit that, in one fantastic flight of his 
winged imagination and in order to rid Sophie 
of an attendant bore, he actually brought and 
substantiated by scientific authority the charge of 
the new method oi assassination with which Sophie 
in Mr. Moeller's comedy ejects the Ambassador of 
Austria from her triumphant presence. It is prob- 
able that the Comte was the only real love in 
Sophie's life, although her subsequent turpitudes 
were many, including relations with the Prince 
d'Henin, whom she detested, and Belanger, the ar- 
chitect, who, with Lauraguais, remained her friend 
until she died. 

Sophie Arnould's voice was not powerful. "Na- 
ture," she has written in her Memoires, "had sec- 
onded my taste for music with a tolerably agreeable 
voice, weak but sonorous, though not extremely so. 
But it was sound and well-balanced, so that with a 
clear pronunciation and without any defect save a 
slight lisp, which could hardly be considered a 
fault, not a word of what I sang was lost, even in 
the most spacious buildings." It is to be observed 
that clear enunciation is an inevitable part of the 
baggage of great dramatic singers. Contemporary 
critics give her more credit than she gave herself; 
according to their evidence her voice was sweet in 
quality, and she possessed the gift of imparting to 
it colour and expression. The Goncourts have sum- 



A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER xv 

marized the case: "She brought to harmony, emo- 
tion; to the song, compassion; to the play of the 
voicq, sentiment. She charmed the ear and 
touched the heart. All the domain of the tender 
drama, all the graces of terror, were hers. She 
possessed the cry, and the tears, and the sigh, and 
the caresses of the pathetic. . . . What art, what 
genius, must there have been to wrest so many har- 
monies from a contemptible voice, a feeble throat." 
These words can hardly be misunderstood. So- 
phie was, indeed, the first, perhaps, of the great 
dramatic singers, those who not only act with their 
bodies but with their singing voices. David Gar- 
rick pronounced her a greater actress than Clairon. 
What Mary Garden is to the contemporary lyric 
stage, Sophie Amould was to the stage of the late 
eighteenth century. 

Before Gluck came to Paris, French lyric art 
was fast ebbing out its life. Pastiches formed most 
of the bills, opera-ballets with five acts and five 
plots, or rearrangements of minor masterworks. 
Even from these Sophie wrested a tremendous rep- 
utation, just as Sarah Bernhardt has defied the 
world of actresses with the clap-trap of Sardou, 
and Mary Garden has won recognition as the great- 
est lyric artist of her day as much as anything 
through her performance in Massenet's meretri- 
cious Thais. The titles of the trifles in which So- 
phie appeared, however, are very pretty and sug- 



xvi A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER 

gest the powder-puffery, the wigs, the flowered 
gowns, the pregnant artificiality of what must ever 
remain in the memory as a graceful and gracious 
period. Alphee et Arethuse, Pyrrhus et Polixene, 
Dardanus, Les Fetes de Paphos, Castor et Pollux, 
Psyche, Thetis et Peleus, Les Dieux d'Egypte, 
Sylvie, Palmire, Aline, Reine de Golconde, and La 
Terre were some of the fragrant names. Sophie's 
repertory included works by Lully, Rameau, Mon- 
signy, and Rousseau, in whose Devin de Village she 
appeared in a boy's part, but of all the operas she 
sang only the two works of Gluck retain the stage 
today. 

Nature always provides ways and means for 
those who provide for themselves. Every great 
reformer in opera has had his corresponding inter- 
preter who has brought about reforms in her own 
field as sweeping as those introduced by the com- 
poser. Debussy had Mary Garden; Wagner, Ma- 
dame Schroeder-Devrient; Gluck, Sophie Arnould. 
There is indeed a fascinating similarity to be noted 
between the personalities and talents of Sophie 
Arnould and Mary Garden. Like Sophie, Mary 
is a great actress; she also moulds her voice to suit 
the new word; she also is a very witty woman. In- 
deed I can remember story after story about Mary 
Garden that would be absolutely in character with 
Sophie Arnould, and if a composer should hit upon 
the ingenious idea of making a rococo opera of Mr. 



A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER xvii 

Moeller's comedy it seems inevitable that Mary 
Garden should be chosen to enact the role of the 
heroine. 

Mr. Moeller, with complete justification, has dis- 
torted some historical facts in his arrangement of 
his play. Sophie did, in a sense, resort to intrigue 
to capture the role of Iphigenie but not in the man- 
ner he suggests. The production of Iphigenie en 
Aulide was, of course, one of the four or five de- 
cisive battles in the history of music drama, and 
Sophie played by no means a small part in its suc- 
cess. Later she appeared as Euridice in Gluck's 
Parisian arrangement of Orpheus, But Rosalie 
Levasseur "created" Alceste, 

The causes for Sophie's decline and fall are not 
difficult to gauge. Her voice, none too good in the 
beginning, began to fail her, and she could not al- 
ways depend on it, nor is there reason to believe 
that on every occasion did she make any effort to 
please the public before which she was appearing. 
Then her wickedly witty tongue made her an object 
of fear, dread, and hate to many of her comrades 
in the theatre, and her caprices were so flagrant 
that an opera director of today would probably com- 
mit suicide in face of them. For weeks at a time 
she would refuse to sing at all, thereby seriously 
embarrassing a management which in any case was 
embarrassed enough for real talent; even the fact 
that she was announced to sing did not sanction 



xviii A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER 

any belief that she would. At the last moment she 
frequently sent word that she was ill; on one occa- 
sion she sent no word at all, but came and sat in a 
box at the front of the house, and when pressed for 
an explanation declared that she had come to take 
a lesson from her understudy. In the circum- 
stances one can understand the hisses that greeted 
hei^ final appearances, inspired partly by a natural 
feeling of grievance on the side of the public; 
partly, doubtless, by a management that wished to 
rid itself permanently of such a menace to order 
and discipline. And the presence of Marie An- 
toinette on more than one occasion did not serve to 
stem the tide of disapproval, for the very simple 
reason that the cold Queen was as unpopular in 
Paris as any royalty could be. 

Poor Sophie definitely retired from the stage in 
1778, when she was but thirty-eight years old, and 
soon thereafter life for her became a constant strug- 
gle. She was granted a pension by the Govern- 
ment but she found it difficult to collect it. When 
a benefit at the Opera in her behalf was proposed, 
she refused to consider it when she learned that a 
condition would be her personal; appearance. The 
Revolution tore away from her what small means 
she had, and the last few years of her life were as 
tragic as those of any of the heroines she had rep- 
resented on the stage. She did not, however, lose 
her friends, Lauraguais and Belanger, who re- 



A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER xix 

mained faithful to the end, although they too had 
lost the power to assist her in any material manner. 
Her letters to these men in her last years are very 
beautiful. Sophie died on October 22, 1802, and 
where she is buried nobody knows. She was bom 
on Saint Valentine's Day, the first words she sang 
on the stage were "Charmant Amour/' and as she 
was dying the Cure of St. Germain I'Auxerois 
leaned over her bed to hear her mutter, "Her sins, 
which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much." 
So the love motif was woven through her life like a 
theme in a symphony. 

Mr. Moeller has chosen in his charming comedy, 
the most charming and the most brilliant to my way 
of thinking that has yet issued from his pen, to ig- 
nore the tragedy, the heartache, the pain in poor 
Sophie's history. The hisses of the people, the 
poverty and squalor of her last years, offer tempt- 
ing material for another play which he may write 
later. His fable, in the present instance, is wholly 
apocryphal, although it is based on history at cru- 
cial points. The fact to be emphasized is that he 
has lighted up the atmosphere and the period, and 
re-created character. Sophie lives in this comedy, 
lives as she must have lived at the height of her ca- 
reer; she breathes and exists; we understand her 
and feel with her; we know that the playwright has 
set her down with an unerring instinct for essentials. 
Occasionally he has used some of her own epigrams 



XX A PROLOGUE FOR THE READER 

but he has written plenty of others of his own which 
seem to be born of the same gay spirit. This, to 
me, is the ideal form of historical play, yielding to 
history, but not episodic, standing on its own ground 
and playing lights on period and character, inval- 
uable to the loving student of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. To those who have hitherto been ignorant of 
the name of this fascinating woman it will straight- 
way have the effect of sending them scurrying 
through the records, and they will not be disap- 
pointed, but it would be no surprise to me if the 
adorable Sophie would henceforth be identified in 
the public mind with the heroine of a comedy which 
is as good as any in the best traditions of the Eng- 
lish stage and which establishes a new standard on 
the American stage. 

Carl Van Vechten. 

September 9, 1919 

New York 



The Characters Are: 

Marie Guimard, the dancer, Sophie's neighbour. 
Mlle. Abigalette Heinel, the dancer, Sophie's worship- 
per. 
Sophie's Third Lackey. 
Sophie's Second Lackey. 
Sophie's First Lackey. 
The Abb^ de Voisenon, Sophie's confessor. 
Sophie. 

Rosalie Levasseur, Sophie's rival. 
Louis Leon Felicite De Brancas, Count De Laura- 

GUAis, Sophie's ''Dorval." 
.j-Vivienne, Sophie's visitor. 
^ Christoph Willibald Ritter Von Cluck, Sophie's 

composer. 
Mercy D'Argenteau, the Austrian Ambassador, Sophie's 

thorn. 
Captain Etienne Mars, Sophie's bridegroom. 
The Count De Saint-Florentin, the Chief of Police, 

Sophie's dread. 
Sophie's soldiers and the Soldiers who come for Sophie's 

arrest. 

The Scenes Are: 

Act I. Half' past seven, which leaves Sophie in a quan- 
dary. 

Act II. Half -past nine, which leaves Sophie in danger. 

Act III. Half -past eleven, which leaves Sophie almost 
alone. 



ACT I 

Half -past seven, which 
leaves Sophie in a quandary. 



ACT I 

The Scene is Sophie's little drawing room adjoin- 
ing her boudoir in the house of the Austrian 
Ambassador in Paris, The apartment is the 
miniature chef d'ouvre of the architect Be- 
longer, He has put all his talent as an artist 
and all his adoration of Sophie into the crea- 
tion of the room and the result is exquisite. 
All the delicate finesse of the style of Louis 
Quinze is in the workmanship. Every detail 
is controlled on the happy side of grace; the 
chairs are done in petite pointe, each silently 
telling its noisy tale of love; the designs of the 
furniture tapestries as well as the painted 
panels of the harpsichord are in the most deli- 
cately fragrant style of Boucher, On one of 
the walls is a La Tour pastel of the Comte 
de Brancas Lauraguais, on another, over the 
mantelpiece is Greuze's portrait of Sophie 
which today graces the Wallace collection in 
London, All about the room are those ex- 
quisite, varied, tiny, necessities of femininity. 
On the harpsichord, for instance, is a small 
vase painted in cupids which, alas, is later to 
be splintered on the altar of Sophie's tempera- 
ment. Here and there are little gilded caskets, 

pillows of the faintest lace; in fact, all the 

7 



8 SOPHIE [Act I 

adorable little things that Sophie loves but 
which she would not hesitate to throw at your 
head if the moment so demanded. 
It is twilight. The room is lit with the glow from 
the pink shaded candelabra. Surely this is 
the shrine of a slightly languid but utterly con- 
tented nymph. But no, the conclusion is too 
swift. Look a little closer. Is not that a band 
of lugubrious mourning about the picture of 
de Lauraguais? Are not the flowers on the 
harpsichord of the sombre hues of purple and 
of a cornflower whose blue is almost black? 
Yes, tragedy is on tip-toe in Sophie's charm- 
ing drawing-room and that is why Mlle. Hei- 
NEL is weeping as she speaks. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[To Marie Guimard.] 
That's her coach. Yes — yes — [they are both at 
the window]^ at last — at last — ^no, it is passing. 
[She is sobbing.] Sophie! What has become of 
her? 

Guimard 

Abigalette, you must be calm. It's not ten min- 
utes since she drove away and it takes at least fif- 
teen to reach the palace of the Minister of State. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[With hysterics in the offing.] 
I know, I know, but I've never seen our Sophie 



Act I] SOPHIE 9 

like this. That is what love does to us fragile 
women. Love, cruel love! It is because my own 
heart has bled that I bleed for Sophie. Why has 
God made us women so sensitive? I never hear of 
an eruption taking place in Naples but I'm all of a 
tremble here in Paris. Are you never moved, 
Marie? 

GUIMARD 

Sometimes when I dance before His Majesty and 
always when Sophie is kind to Rosalie Levasseur. 
It is when she smiles at Rosalie that I'm most stirred 
for then I know that behind the rosy petals of her 
smile her adorable little tongue is waiting to smite. 
Soon I think Sophie will give her Austrian Ambas- 
sador back to Rosalie. 

Mlle. Heinel 

Surely she doesn't keep him chained for love? 
My coiffeuse says her husband says — and he is a 
squint-eyed man, Marie, and sees many things when 
people do not think he's looking — she says, he says 
that if the hair dye that the Austrian Ambassador 
uses were brewed into a soup and if the King could 
manage to have the Queen, Marie Leginska, drink 
it that that would be a sure way of sending Her 
Majesty straight to God. No, His Excellency is old 
enough to be our Sophie's grandpapa. Surely it is 
not for love she holds him. 



10 SOPHIE [Act I 

GUIMARD 

They say not, darling, but then who knows, — ^we 
women — [the sound of a coach rumbling by] that's 
she! [They're again at the window.] No, the 
coach has passed. [She pulls the bell rope,] Per- 
haps some word has come, perhaps she has sent a 
message. Maybe there is something we can do. 
[The Third Lackey enters,] 

GUIMARD 

Is there any sight of Madame's coach? 

The Third Lackey 
No, Madame, but my neck is nearly broke leaning 
out and looking up and down the street. 

Mlle. Heinel 
Has no word come? Nothing? 

The Third Lackey 
Nothing. 

GuiMARD 

Are you sure? 

Mlle. Heinel 
Hasn't something come? Something with a big 
seal that you know would be important? 

The Third Lackey 
Nothing, Madame, w^hilst I have been at the door 
telling people that Madame would see no one. One 



Act I] SOPHIE 11 

young lady has come three times and gone away 
again. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Pulling the bell rope.] 
I will ask the lackey that we sent to the garden 
gate, he must have some news. [Then again, ex- 
citedly.] Marie, I never was so worried in my life. 

GuiMARD 
You must be calm, Abigalette. 

[The Second Lackey enters.] 

GUIMARD 

Is there no word from Madame? Has she yet 
returned? 

The Second Lackey 
Not yet, Madame. 

Mlle. Heinel 

Has no letter come, something with a big seal? 
Nothing? 

The Second Lackey 

Well, to be precise, Madame, some twenty bills, 
but Madame Amould never sees the bills. They 
are immediately sent to the fourth secretary of His 
Honour, the Ambassador. 

GUIMARD 

Where is the other lackey? 



12 SOPHIE [Act I 

The Second Lackey 
Madame, not five minutes back you sent him up 
to the roof to look through Madame's telescope to 
see if she were coming. 

Mlle. Heinel 

Yes, send him down. 

[The two Lackeys with a very formal bow 
make their exit.] 

Mlle. Heinel 

[Tearfully.] 
Ah, that adorable telescope. It was through that 
that he [she points dramatically to the Count's pic- 
ture] that he used to read the history of the stars. 
Marie, I am sure something has gone wrong. So- 
phie has failed. She will fall into a decline. She 
will be unable to rehearse tonight. Papa Gluck 
will be so angry with her that he will rush back to 
Vienna before the premiere of his opera tomorrow 
night; the Dauphiness, Marie Antoinette, will order 
the Royal Academy of Music closed. We will 
dance no more this season and my legs were never 
so much a-tingle and my toes so primed. All — 
all this because poor Sophie has — 

[First Lackey enters.] 

Mlle. Heinel 
Have you seen anything of Madame's coach from 
the roof ? 



Act I] SOPHIE 13 

The First Lackey 
Madame, the telescope was very difficult to man- 
age. . When I looked through and thought I was see- 
ing things very far away I was looking, if you 
please, at two cats engaged, in love or was it alter- 
cation? — it is so difficult to tell with canines — on 
the chimney pots of the house at the comer of the 
Rue de Roi — ladies, I'm not sure whether it was the 
Rue de Roi or — 

Mlle. Heinel 
Never mind the cats. 

GUIMARD 

What of Madame's coach? 

The First Lackey 
Of that I saw nothing. 

Mlle. Heinel 
Something unforeseen has happened. 

The First Lackey 
Yes, Madame. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Tremblingly,] 
For God's sake what? 

The First Lackey 
A young lady in a hood has come to the door 
three times. 



14 SOPHIE [Act I 

GuimArd 
And? 

The First Lackey 
She insists on seeing Madame. Perhaps she 
might explain Madame's absence or what has hap- 
pened to the Count. 

Mlle. Heinel 
Why didn't you ask her? 

The First Lackey 

[With a sly look.] 
Madame, I did, but it is Mme. Amould that she 
must see. 

Mlle. Heinel 
You lackeys are all so stupid. Go! 

The First Lackey 
Yes, Madame. 

[With a very formal bow he makes his exit.] 

Mlle. Heinel 

Tragedy is brewing! Who is this girl? What 
has become of Sophie? Where is De Lauraguais? 
[Then with superstitious awe.] Marie, last night 
my slipper became untied just before my pas de 
seul. Signor Tortolini was in a dreadful rage. 
It always means bad luck. Marie, you know I'm 
very clairvoyant, very, very. [And then as proof 
incontrovertible.] Doctor Mesmer, as soon as he 



Act I] SOPHIE 15 

looked at me, told me that my mother had blue 
eyes. The world — life — is filled with endless 
mysteries. I know — ^how I know I don't know — 
but some evil has befallen Sophie. 

GuiMARD 
Nonsense, Abigalette. While we are waiting 
shall I show you some new steps? 

[She has lifted her dainty petticoat and 
begins twirling aboiU,^ 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Shocked,] 
What? You would dance in this house of 
mourning? Don't you see that his portrait is 
draped in crepe and that Sophie has all the flowers 
as near black as she can find them? There are no 
entirely black flowers. That is because Nature does 
not wish that beauty should be associated with sad- 
ness. Life is so full of unreadable secrets. 
[There is a sound of a coach stopping,] Marie, 
that's she, — she. [They are at the window.] No, 
that's Rosalie's coach. 

GUIMARD 

[Angrily,] 

Of course, that big crow thinks she smells a 
corpse. Her footman has brought her card to the 
door. Surely they will not admit her. [A pause,] 



16 SOPHIE [Act I 

No, she is driving off. The servants will allow no 
one in. 

Mlle. Heinel 

What time is it? 

GUIMARD 

Past the twilight. Sophie will be worn out. 
How can she sing tonight? 

Mlle. Heinel 
How cruel love is. Why did they quarrel? Do 
you know? 

[She is standing in front of De Lauraguais' 
picture gazing up at it as though it were a 
Crucifixion on an altar.] 

GuiMARD 

They do not know themselves. Perhaps she 
wouldn't have wanted him back at all until she 
heard he was in prison. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[As though it were an old story,] 
But why there this time? 

GUIMARD 

Who knows? Perhaps he has insulted the King 
or been boring the Dauphiness beseeching her to 
allow him to perform this new disease of inocula- 
tion on her dog. Maybe his pet bear has been 
frightening the Royal Household or perhaps the 



Act I] SOPHIE 17 

Count has stood on his head before the Pope's am- 
bassador. He does as he wishes and there is no 
place for such people except in jail or bed. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Sadly, very sadly.] 
Yes, you are right. 

GUIMARD 

And the wilder he acts the dearer he is to So- 
phie. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[And the problem is too deep for her.] 

And now she must have him back. Now, when 
she is installed as mistress to his honour the Vien- 
nese Ambassador. I tell you, Marie, that the 
longer I live the less I know of life. Do you sup- 
pose that any of these strange passions ever affect 
us dancers? 

GUIMARD 

[With authority.] 
I think they usually begin after one's seventh 
lover. You still have time. 

[Footsteps are heard in the hall-way.] 

Mlle. Heinel 
At last it's she. 

[The voice of The First Lackey is heard 
outside announcing the Abbe de Voisenon.] 



18 SOPHIE [Act I 

GUIMARD 

Sophie insists on having him about. He is the 
only Abbe who can do justice to her confessions. 
[The Abbe enters.] 

The Abbe 

[With urban mansuetude.] 

Ladies, good evening. [They bow.] Charm- 
ing, charming. I hope the angels in the courts of 
Paradise will be as graceful as you. And where 
is Sophie? 

GUIMARD 

We do not know. 

[Mlle. Heinel is weeping.] 

The Abbe 

What is this? Has there been trouble with this 
pompous German, this Chevalier Gluck, this writer 
of tunes? 

Mlle. Heinel 
No, your reverence, it is something else. 

[Instinctively the girls turn to look at the 
portrait of the Count.] 

The Abbe 

[Watching them.] 

Ah! So it is De Lauraguais again. 

[And Mlle. Heinel deeply sighs.] 



Act I] SOPHIE 19 

The Abbe 

[Taking a pinch of snuff.] 
It is always like that with Sophie. For a little 
while De Lauraguais is in favour, — then pouff! 
[And he scatters the dust of the snuff in the air,] 
She sends him off for ever, and then some fine morn- 
ing — and the mornings are fine in Paris — she hears 
he is for the thousandth time in the Prison of Fort 
Eveque. He has broken the code of the terrible 
Saint-Florentin. He has disobeyed the laws of 
this odious Minister of the Police. He is again in 
jail. Then Sophie's heart melts and she will die 
unless she holds her Dorval in her arms again. 
What is this love, ladies, this fantastic acrobat 
called love? 

GUIMARD 

[Practically,] 
Well, what? 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Sighing,] 
What indeed? 

The Abbe 

[And he enjoys the telling,] 

I will tell you, my daughters. Love is self -hood's 

most subtle disguise. A delicious martyrdom, an 

ecstatic sacrifice, a lovely mirror in which we see 

ourselves, pitiful or gay; a great big bother about a 



20 SOPHIE [Act I 

small bright bubble — and then one fine morning — 
and the mornings are fine in Paris — poufif ! — and it 
is gone. [And he is again tossing the snuff dust 
from his finger tips.] Ladies, I am a bachelor. 

Mlle. Heinel 
r"^' [Outraged.] 
j Is it thus you speak of the most precious thing 

/ in life! 

/ 

^-'-''^ The Abbe 

Yes, you are right. The most precious thing in 
life is love. First the love of God which is eternal 
hope, then the love of oneself which is our common 
comfort, then, my children, the love of some one 
else which is perpetual disillusionment. 

GuiMARD 

[Wisely, shaking her head.] 
You have learnt that from listening to too many 
sad confessions. 

The Abbe 

I have learnt that because I have peered through 
the veil of life at truth, or perhaps, my daughters, 
I should say peeped, because one learns more by 
peeping than by peering. 

Mlle. Heinel 
Father! 



Act I] SOPHIE 21 

The Abbe 
You do not know where Sophie is? 

GUIMARD 

She has been spending the day seeking an audi- 
ence with the Ministers of France. 

The Abbe 
Has she so soon tired of the Minister of Austria? 

Mlle. Heinel 
One doesn't tire of what has never begun. To 
His Excellency, the Minister from Vienna, Sophie 
is, as all Paris knows except Your Reverence, Mis- 
tress in title only. 

The Abbe 

[For the news is news,^ 
Indeed? 

GuiMARD 

Didn't you know that? With Sophie the rela- 
tionship is just official, but when Rosalie lived at 
the Embassy that was an intimacy — how shall I 
put it? [and she hesitates] — an intimacy that wore 
no slippers. 

The Abbe 

And how many weeks has Sophie been gracing 
the Salon of D'Argenteau? 

GUIMARD 

Four, and how triumphantly ! Do you know that 



22 SOPHIE [Act I 

it is only because of the strictest orders from His 
Majesty that the Dauphiness doesn't come to So- 
phie's suppers after the opera? [And on she 
rushes.] Everybody in the world is mad to come, 
even the Papal secretaries have used the influence 
of Rome to obtain a card. Don't you know that 
a nation that isn't represented at our Sophie's 
parties is considered second rate in our world, your 
Reverence? 

Mlle. Heinel 
[For she has been at the receptions.] 
On Thursdays her reception is for Ambassadors. 
It is then that Sophie sometimes consents to be pres- 
ent, the Ambassadors must take their chances. On 
Saturdays the attaches are received, but of course 
Sophie is usually ill on Saturday, and on Tuesdays, 
when the noble world of Paris treads on each other's 
names to be admitted, why our dear Sophie is al- 
ways away in the country. What would you ex- 
pect. Father, the life of a prima donna is not all 
song. 

GUIMARD 

Listen, a coach has stopped. [She is at the win- 
dow.] Is it she? No, look, Abigalette, is not that 
the livery of the Court? 

Mlle. Heinel 
[At the window.] 
Yes, yes. [Ah, if it were only at her house that 



Act I] SOPHIE 23 

the coach were stopping. ] See, one of the footmen 
leaves a card for Sophie. All the world is at her 
feet begging to pay her homage and at this very 
moment she crucifies her heart for the love of De 
Lauraguais. Life is so complex. Father, is there 
no key to the mystery? 

The Abbe 

Trust in God, my daughters, which locks the 
Pandora's box on life and throws the key into the 
sea of faith. 

GUIMARD 

[Thinking, with her lips.^ 
I think you would be better understood in Rome 
than Paris. 

The Abbe 

I had contemplated making myself understood 
at the Vatican until Sophie sent for me. 

GuiMARD 

And now you cannot tear yourself away. 

The Abbe 
What would you have, my children, she needs me. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Sophie's heart is a book to her.] 

Yes, yes. 

The Abbe 
And besides I find her house so sympathetic. 



24 SOPHIE [Act I 

[And then as testimony,] Do you know, that next 
to the books in the library of Mme. du Barry and at 
the Cathedral, that she has the best collection of the 
Holy Fathers to be found in France? 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Enthusiastically. ] 
How dear of Sophie. 

The Abbe 
Not to the exclusion of all else, Mademoiselle, 
be reassured. Next to the confessions of St. Au- 
gustine is an inscribed copy from Voltaire and be- 
tween the life of St. Louis and the "Little Flowers" 
of Saint Francis; bounded in citron levant, if I 
remember rightly, is last year's number of the Se- 
cret Memoirs of the Police. 

Mlle. Heinel 
How dear of Sophie. 

The Abbe 

So you see that whilst her piety is catholic her 
taste is mixed. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Very deeply.] 
Dear, dear Sophie. I do not see why she should 
suffer with all those good books in the house. 



Act I] SOPHIE 25 

The Abbe 
Between ourselves, ladies, I think that she enjoys 
her tears. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Again outraged.] 
Oh, what a horrid, cynical idea! Poor Sophie, 
rushing about like mad, her heart torn with desire 
and you, you in her very house here say that agony 
is not agony. I don't see how she can have you for 
a friend — and to confess to you — why look, Marie, 
his very eyes are made of ice. I'm sure he's as 
cold as it must be three feet beyond the North Pole. 
To my mind, the one thing a priest should have is 
the milk — the pure white milk of human kindness. 

Sophie 

[From the doorway.] 
Not in too great abundance lest it sour on him. 

[/ see her, if for the moment I may intrude, 
in a turquoise blue, a little dim, low and ruf- 
fled, with a tiny beaver hat sporting a tossed 
pink feather caught with a bow of mauve. 
A wrap of plum colour has fallen from her 
shoulders. Greuze, in one of his most deli- 
cious and unsentimental moments, has painted 
her. Look at the picture, it is hanging there 
over the mantel. There is an air about her of 
a melancholy that is piquant, a piquancy that 
is for the moment too sad. It is thus as Greuze 



26 SOPHIE [Act I 

has seen her with immortal grace that she in 
her mortality should grace the doorway J\ 

Mlle. Heinel and Guimard 

[Rushing over to her,] 
Sophie! Sophie! 

The Abbe 
Good morning, my daughter. 

Sophie 
[Sinking into a chair.] 
I'm at death's door, but still I remember it is 
evening. 

Mlle. Heinel 
Tell us all — all. 

Sophie 
What is there to tell? Seven times I implored 
admission to Minister Choiseul. Always some stu- 
pidity prevented my admittance. A delegation 
from the Farmers of Auvergne. Are there any 
farmers in Auvergne, Father? Though I am de- 
spondent I do not like to be inexact about any part 
of France, perhaps they were from Provence. 
Then Choiseul was occupied with a tedious inter- 
view with the more tedious minister from England. 
Statesmen take days to leave undecided what a 
woman could settle in a second. [And her fingers 
snap in quick dismissal.] Then a summons to the 
King for Choiseul, a conspiracy of stupidities to 



Act I] SOPHIE 27 

keep me waiting. It was all I could do to keep my 
heart from breaking right there in the Courts of the 
Hall of Justice but I said to myself: Sophie, you 
are Sophie, remember you are an artist. It will 
never do for the supreme prima donna of the Royal 
Academy of Music to die in the Courts of the Hall 
of Justice just as anybody might die in the Courts 
of the Hall of Justice. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Commiseratingly. ] 
Sophie, poor Sophie! 

Sophie 
I drove back here. At first I could not enter. 
I knew his gentle, accusing eyes would try to smile 
at me. [Tearfully she gazes at the portrait of De 
Lauraguais.] Surely, that is the masterpiece of 
La Tour. Yes, I must try and control myself. All 
ministers are liars. Your pardon. Father, I mean 
ministers of State. Why did Choiseul listen to 
me at all? Last night after my triumph I went 
down on my knees to him. His eyes were still dim 
from the divine pathos of my singing. I beseeched 
him to intercede for my adored one. I implored 
him to set him free. He promised help tomorrow. 
This is tomorrow, this is tomorrow, this is tomorrow. 
[And the hope lies buried in a grave of 
sobs.] 



28 SOPHIE [Act I 

Mlle. Heinel 
Sophie, dear, for the sake of art control yourself. 

Sophie 

This is the cruel day. Choiseul has forgotten, 
tonight he leaves for Vienna and at this moment 
my poor Dorval lies swooning in the Prison of 
Fort Eveque. It isn't nice in Fort Eveque. I have 
been there, — a night and a day because I told a 
lieutenant of the police that his nose was so 
long that he couldn't see beyond it to his wife's 
disloyalty. Never be honest in a dishonest world. 
And now my DorA^al is there with only one little 
window to his cell through which to hear the swal- 
lows sing. [Then to The Abbe.] Do swallows 
sing? Ah well, never mind. Poor Dorval, think 
of it. Father. 

The Abbe 
[Quietly.] 

Yes, my child, I am thinking of many things. 

Sophie 
There is no place for genius in the world except 
in prison or out of France. He has defied the 
Academy of Medicine. He has sent broadcast the 
truth of his discovery. He would save suffering 
humanity by this exquisite new method of his. 
What is it called? Ah yes, this system of inocula- 
tion — it is marvellous. 

[She is weeping.] 



Act I] SOPHIE 29 

Mlle. Heinel 
[And she is iveeping, too,] 
Yes, miraculous, very miraculous, 

Sophie 
[After all, it must be.] 
I do not understand it but I know it is and for 
this he is in a dungeon now. 

The Abbe 
But there are rumours at Court that this time it is 
for some insult to the King. 

Sophie 
Nonsense, it must have been a misunderstood 
courtesy. And besides Dorval is a genius. What 
has courtesy to do with genius? 

GuiMARD 

Be calm, Sophie, remember you must rehearse 
tonight, 

Sophie 
Rehearse tonight! That is the life of us artists. 
We are slaves to beauty, though our hearts are 
bursting we must sing. How can I ever reach my 
top notes when I know that my Dorval is in Fort 
Eveque? And we parted in anger. [She is in 
front of his picture now.] My love, can you ever 
forgive me that? Can you ever pardon your rash, 
your wayward Sophie for not knowing that your 



30 SOPHIE [Act I 

whims were but misread blessings? Dorval! Dor- 
val! My adored one! Marie, from where you 
stand is the bow on tlie pieture straight? Father, 
quiek, that ehair. 

[The cluiir is brougJit, The ladies assist. 

The Abbe is holding Soi'iiiE as slie arranges 

the bow of crepe.] 

GuiMARD 

Be careful, do not fall, remember you rehearse 
tonight. 

Sophie 
Marie, you're growing thin from worry about my 
rehearsal. Now that I look down on you I can see 
nothing but a hairy Hag of despair flying at the end 
of a pole. 

The Abbe 

Madame, hasten down, the chair is perhaps not 
very strong. 

Sophie 
W ould you deprive me of even these few mo- 
ments witli liim? [Her face is close to the face 
of the portrait.] Ah, my adored one, will I ever 
see you again in this life? 

[The door opens and The First Lackey 
enters.] 

Sophie 
Well, what is it? 



Act I] SOPHIE 31 

The First Lackey 
[Bowing.] 
Miulanie, a docuinent has just come from the Min- 
ister of State. 

Sophie 
[From the chair.] 
Dorval is dead, ho's dead, I know he's dead! 
Give me that terrible paper! 

[The document is Jwndcd to Sophie. The 
Lackey makes his exit. With a trembling 
hami Sophie opens the letter,] 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Aside to Guimard.] 
That is the way she's going to look before she 
sings tlie first act aria in Iphigcnia tomorrow night. 

The Abbe 
My child, come down. 

Sophie 

Leave me to my woe. Leave me alone on the 
lieighls with my suffering. 

[She has opened the paper. They are 
watching her in apprehension. Suddenly 
with a cry of joy she jumps to the floor.] 

Sophie 
Choiseul has listened. Dorval is free! He is 
on his way to me, his Sophie. Listen. [She 



32 SOPHIE [Act I 

reads.] "Madame, your divine art has moved me. 
I realize that to make you suffer is an insult to the 
gods of song. De Lauraguais for the sixth time is 
free. Urge him to control his whims. Urge him, 
Madame, to set a curb on yours." 

Mlle. Heinel 
Outrageous! Outrageous! 

Sophie 
[Continuing,] 
"For need I more than hint, Madame, that 
neither the Count nor his admirable protectress, 
Mme. Arnould, are in too high favour with the 
Count Saint-Florentin, Minister of Police." 
[Sophie looks up.] What a mean little serpent in 
this otherwise paradisial document. 

GUIMARD 

Go on. 

Sophie 
There is nothing else save three quarters of a 
page of space and then the name Choiseul. [Then 
angrily.] I will save this letter seal and all some 
day to fling into the face of this Minister. But 
now, now — Marie, Abigalette, rush into the garden, 
pluck all the roses you can find. I am done with 
sadness. 

[She tears down the crepe from the picture. 
GuiMARD and Mlle. Heinel run out. She 



Act I] SOPHIE 33 

snatches the lugubrious looking flowers from 
the harpsichord and flings them through the 
window.^ 

Sophie 
Why aren't you dancing, Father? Go down on 
your knees and dance. Sing a hymn of praise. 
No, you are right. There is never room in one 
room for the joy of two people unless they are — 
ah well, never mind. Be merciful, Father, for to- 
morrow I shall have an abundance to confess. 
Dorval, my genius, my adored one. 

The Abbe 

Madame, remember you must sing tonight. You 
will be weary. 

Sophie 
I am a prima donna. I sing with a bit of my 
heart and a bit of my mind. The rest of my life I 
save for my life. And besides. Papa Gluck never 
stays too late. Why do you suppose I have a tem- 
perament? Tonight I will sing divinely because I 
know that each aria will bring me nearer to the 
blissful hours that I will spend alone with Dorval. 
What is more blessed than the love of a man? 

The Abbe 

The deeper love for all men. The love that lifts 
itself to service and sacrifice, the forgetting of 
oneself. 



34 SOPHIE [Act I 

Sophie 
No, no, that is putting wings to facts. Altruism 
is but egoism gone into society. 

The Abbe 
Society, Sophie. You have made a fetish of all 
this superficial gaiety. The things of this world are 
but things of the moment. 

Sophie 
You are right but what is life but a series of 
moments? Little moments which, if we are wise, 
we will crown with an ecstasy that seems eternal. 
You see Sophie can be serious. [Yes, and she is.] 
You do not know how very serious Sophie can be, 
sad, spiritual, even religious. Do you know that 
my debut as a singer was in church? There, as a 
little girl of six I sang the Miserere so sincerely, 
so divinely, — I was barely six but already I had 
learnt the agony of life — ^that for several Sabbaths 
at least the house of prayer was more popular than 
the Royal Academy of Music. [She calls from the 
window.] My friends, hasten with the roses lest 
Dorval come back before the room is gay and be- 
fore this melancholy prelate convince me [she has 
turned to The Abbe] that life is nothing but a 
thorny path through a forest of thorns. There, 
we've been talking about heaven and you haven't 
had your wine. [She pulls the bell rope.] 



Act I] SOPHIE 35 

Father, don't you think we have a little right to a 
heaven here on earth before we gamble for a gam- 
bler's paradise hereafter? 

The Abbe 

There is no paradise on earth save a duty that is 
done. 

[The Third Lackey enters,] 

Sophie 
The Abbe's wine in the library. [The Lackey 
exits.] Duty! What is duty but a holy name that 
people give to the things they do not want to do? 
When I sing I do my duty. When I am happy I do 
my duty for then I am thanking God with happi- 
ness, — for the happiness of life. [And now she is 
smiling.] I wonder if you took your cassock off 
whether you would be so good? 

The Abbe 
[Shocked.] 
My daughter! 

Sophie 
My Father, is it my fault that you are so literal? 

[The girls return with their arms full of 
flowers.] 

Sophie 
That's it, my darlings. Now the room will look 



36 SOPHIE [Act I 

like a temple of love. Scatter them about as 
though for a bacchanal. 

[She throws some roses at The Abbe.] 

The Abbe 
[Getting up,} 
I think I will wait in the library. 

Sophie 
No, stay here. You are as safe as a pilgrim be- 
fore the shrine of Venus provided he is blind and 
over ninety. [Then to the girls.] Put some be- 
hind my Dorval's picture, Abigalette. How charm- 
ing you girls are! I adore having you about! 

The Abbe 

Then why do they say you hate to have women 
with you? 

Sophie 

They mean singers, singers, Father. I do not 
object to these ballet girls. What difference does 
it make to me that they can twirl their toes higher 
than I can sing? 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Laughing.] 
Sophie, Sophie! 

Sophie 

[Gaily.] 
Life is a holiday of love. The first words I 



Act I] SOPHIE 37 

ever sang in my life were "love, charming love." 
Love, sweet after agony, blessed after pain. Dor- 
val, Dorval! 

[The First Lackey appears in the door- 
way,] 

The First Lackey 
Madame, now that you are at home are you at 
home? 

Sophie 
Is it he, the Count de Lauraguais? [Then hope- 
fully.] Not yet? not yet? 

The First Lackey 
[With a sly look.] 
The carriage of Mme. Levasseur is at the door. 

Sophie 
[And her lips knot.] 
So! She knows I have been unhappy and has 
come to pity me. [She clenches her tiny pink fist 
as though for a battle.] Show her in. 

[The First Lackey exits.] 

Sophie 
Anything to wing the time before he comes. 
[Then to Mlle. Heinel and Guimard.] Do not 
be offended, dears, you are my friends. I do not 
have to be nice to you. But to Rosalie, ah, that is 
different, she hasn't yet forgiven me for taking her 



38 SOPHIE [Act I 

Ambassador. [The voice of the Lackey is heard.] 
Crouch down, my children, for the eternal hills are 
upon us. 

[Rosalie, an enormous, blond and dullish 
woman is announced by the Lackey.] 

Sophie 
Rosalie, how sweet of you. 

Rosalie 
Sophie, you are in trouble — tongues are wag- 
ging. Madame that says this and Madame this 
says that. 

Sophie 
Rosalie, you haven't listened? 

Rosalie 
Why not? 

Sophie 
Why not? Ah yes, you are justified. It is the 
easiest way for some to learn. 

Rosalie 
[Nodding to the others. '\ 

So your sweet little friends are here and your 
good, good Abbe. Good evening, ladies. Father, 
tongues are wagging. They say that Sophie's little 
boudoir is more sunny for you than the cloisters of 
the cathedral. You are deserting your sinners. 



Act I] SOPHIE 39 

Sophie 
Rosalie dear, he is sharpening his piety and pity 
at the very fountain head of sin. Aren't you 
ashamed to be seen entering my house? 

Rosalie 
I have come because I heard you were sad. I 
wish to help those who are sad. 

Sophie 
Yes, dear, always when the victim is a woman 
whom you love. 

Rosalie 
[Very seriously.] 
Sophie, I would go to the end of the earth to you 
if I heard that you were suffering. 

Sophie 

[Patting her hand, a quaint expression in 
her eyes.] 
Yes, dear, I know, I know. 

Rosalie 
Can I be of help? See, I forget that you are 
not always nice to me with your tongue. I have a 
big heart. 

Sophie 

[So kindly, so sweetly.] 
Of course, dear, look at the size of the rest of 
you. 



40 SOPHIE [Act I 

Rosalie 
Soon I am to sing for the Dauphiness. I have 
influence. Do you need some money, say ten thou- 
sand francs? 

Sophie 
Darling, you are insulting your memory. Our 
Ambassador, Mercy d'Argenteau, can be very lively 
when it comes to tossing francs, and you, dear, 
never had the reputation of being economical, that 
is, when it came to some one else's money. Look 
about you, dearest, does it seem that your Sophie 
has been hungering for discarded crusts? 

Rosalie 
Darling, I have not been lonely. 

Sophie 
How could you be when you take up so much 
room in the world. They tell me that you have 
turned ever so intimately to the companionship of 
music. 

Rosalie 
[Largely,] 
It is all to us singers. It is my life, my soul. 

Sophie 

How does your life look without his wig? You 
will come with your soul, that is with Papa Gluck, 
to hear me sing tonight? 



Act I] SOPHIE 41 

Rosalie 
If my Sophie doesn't mind. 

Sophie 
Mind? Put yourself for a moment in my boots. 
[Her tiny foot is suddenly stuck out.] No, I can- 
not ask you to perform miracles. Why should I 
mind, my friend? You threw yourself at Papa 
Gluck before it was decided who should sing 
Iphigenia. You threw yourself at his head and 
you landed in his bed, but nevertheless, my friend, 
it is Sophie Arnould who creates the role tomorrow 



night. 



Rosalie 

Sophie, aren't you ashamed to repeat all this 
gossip in front of these two children? 

Sophie 
These two children are members of the ballet. 
Besides, what matter, all Paris knows. I'll wager 
you that the women in the market place sing their 
babies to sleep to the tune of the ballad of Rosalie. 
You say you came to do me a service. Now I shall 
do you one. I shall give you some advice. Noth- 
ing is so free to give, or so expensive to take. This 
is my advice: thin your body and fatten your wit. 

Rosalie 
[Literal to the end.] 



42 SOPHIE [Act I 

No, no, we singers need deep chests. 
[She points to her own,^ 

Sophie 
[Disregarding the physical geography,"] 
For on the very pinnacle of things, my enormous 
sister in the art of song, there is very little room 
to move about in. But do not go too far. Do not 
waste away to the shadow of a shadow like my 
poor little Guimard here. That is too much. 
[Then to Guimard.] Marie, you are rapidly be- 
coming the skeleton of the Muses. Why the other 
evening when you were dancing with those two 
gentlemen of the ballet it looked for all the world 
like two dogs fighting for a bone. There, what a 
nice time I'm having and I haven't asked you to 
sit down. [And how happy she is.] 

Rosalie 
Then I can be of no help? 

Sophie 
Oh, yes, you can. You can give me the satisfac- 
tion of telling you that the agony I was suffering is 
appeased and whilst it might have been a pleasure 
to you to have seen your Sophie the most miserable 
woman in Paris that now you may have the brighter 
joy of beholding me the happiest lady in France. 
You see I have really read your kindness. If you 
came here to pity me I hope your trouble has been 



Act I] SOPHIE 43 

repaid. If you were curious about what was hap- 
pening to Madame Arnould be assured that Paris 
need no longer be curious about what is happen- 
ing to you. If it is not already common gossip, I 
will tell the tale with a flourish and embellishment 
which I am sure will rebound most genuinely, 
Rosalie dear [and her smile's angelic] , most justly 
to your credit. 

Rosalie 
Sophie, Sophie, how you misjudge me. Shall 
we not call quits? As for me I will not speak any 
more of you and you in your turn must say nothing 
either good or bad of me. 

Sophie 
Rosalie, my dear, half of that promise I will 
keep. [Then to The Abbe.] Can you despair of 
humanity when you see such an exhibition of sis- 
terly love? 

The Abbe 

Ladies, ladies, is there no room in your heart 
for charity? 

Sophie 
You dear, simple soul you. How could there be 
when we have each other's reputation to think of? 

[The First Lackey enters and speaks low 
to Sophie.] 



44 SOPHIE [Act I 

Sophie 
[Involuntarily, 1 
He has come! 

Rosalie 
Who? 

m 

Sophie 
[Quickly on her guard.] 
My larynx, my larynx. The doctor has come to 
spray my throat. [She sings a phrase.] La la — 
la-la. How can I do justice to Gluck tonight after 
all this chatter? [She begins a scale.] Do-re- 
me-fa-sol — 

Mlle. Heinel 
[In a rapture.] 
How beautiful. 

Rosalie 
She sings that with her head, I can go as high as 
that with my chest. [She sings a few notes.] 
La-la-la. 

[The two women glare at each other like 
two unfriendly kittens that are not on singing 
terms.] 

The Abbe 
God's children should love each other. 

Sophie 
Not even God could expect that when they're 



Act I] SOPHIE 45 

singers. Now you must all go, all of you. My 
larynx, my larynx. 

Rosalie 

[Sounding a note.] 
Let me finish this phrase. You will hear some- 
thing. 

Sophie 
[Insinuatingly, militantly.] 
So will you if you do. My physician is waiting. 
[Then to The First Lackey.] In a minute. 
Have him wait. Ladies, if I seem expeditious it 
is the fault of my larynx. 

The Abbe 
[Aside to Sophie.] 
That is a queer name for the heart. 

Sophie 
[Shaking her finger at him and with ever 
so deep a meaning,] There are queer 
names for many things. [Then to the ladies,] 
Good evening, friends, my dear, dear, friends. 

Mlle. Heinel 
Sophie, until tonight. 

GuiMARD 

You must rest before rehearsal. 



46 SOPHIE [Act I 

Sophie 
Yes, dear. [Then with purling sweetness, hold- 
ing out her hand.] Rosalie — until rehearsal! 

Rosalie 
I'm not angry, Sophie. I never mind what you 
say. 

Sophie 
Don't, dear, the only way to get the better of the 
truth is not to mind it. [She bursts into song.'\ 
La-la la la-la-la. 

[Mlle. Heinel and Guimard kiss Sophie. 
Then Rosalie and the girls are gone,] 

Sophie 
[Excitedly to The Abbe.] 
He has come, De Lauraguais has come. 

The Abbe 
I knew it was something beside the larynx. 

Sophie 
Why, whatever do you mean? 

The Abbe 

[Very, very seriously.] 
With your permission, Madame, I will wait in 
the library. 

Sophie 
And for goodness' sake don't come in without 
knocking at the door. 



Act I] SOPHIE 47 

The Abbe 
My daughter. 

Sophie 
An Abbe need never do that. If he is curious 
there is always the confessional. But you wicked 
old man you, I meant do not come in without knock- 
ing during the rehearsal. [She has taken his hand 
and speaks very genuinely.] Dear, dear Father, 
it is such a comfort having you in the house. One 
never knows when one may need God. 

[The Abbe with his hands behind his back 
goes into the library and Sophie rushes over 
to the main door centre and flings it open.] 

Sophie 

[In an ecstasy.] 
Dorval! Dorval! 

[And De Lauraguais enters. He is charm- 
ing to women but to men he might seem "un- 
understandable." His whimsies are the 
women's adoration, — his "differences" the key 
to their hearts. He is childlike and petulant, 
passionate and mad, but withal he is so hand- 
some, handsome in that furtive, unconscious 
way, and as to his esprit, listen for a minute to 
Voltaire: ''He has all possible talents and all 
possible eccentricities" — and a friend, writing 
to the sage of Verney describes him as ''the 



48 SOPHIE [Act I 

most serious fool in the kingdom." Can you 
blame Sophie for her adoration? Blame, if 
you will, I cannot.]^ 

Sophie 
[Rushing over to him,] 
Dorval, Dorval! 

De Lauraguais 
Darling, do not crush the parrot. [He takes out 
a bedraggled bird from under his coat.] It was all 
I could do to keep him quiet in the coach. He 
kept on calling out: "Sophie, dearest Sophie." 
He had been listening to me in my cell. 

Sophie 
[Brushing away the thought,] 
Don't, Dorval, don't, the memory of you in prison 
is more than I can bear. 

De Lauraguais 
Why, I had a rather nice time. 

Sophie 
What? 

De Lauraguais 
So many hours for thought. When I wasn't 
thinking of you, dear, I was busy, part of the time 
on my new tragedy and the rest in finishing my 
essay about the wild men of America. I do not 
know anything at all about these wild men but 



Act I] SOPHIE 49 

where one has no facts to work on there is so much 
more room for the imagination. [He looks about 
him.] And you, Sophie, you do not seem to have 
pined away. 

Sophie 
Dorval, dear, you haven't yet kissed your Sophie. 

De Lauraguais 
Haven't I, Sophie? Well— well— 

[Her arms are held out to him. He is 
about to embrace her.] 

Sophie 
Darling, darling! 

[She is nearer to him.] 

De Lauraguais 
There — I'd almost forgotten Minnette. 

Sophie 
Who is she? 

De Lauraguais 

Next to Polly, the wisest of living beings because 
she is silent. [He takes from under his coat a tiny 
marmoset.] My wife, after a letter of implora- 
tion, sent me Minnette to prison from my little 
menagerie at home. She is a perfect specimen, 
Sophie, Minnette, not my wife. [He holds up the 
tiny monkey.] Look, her little chest is all marked 
with gapphire stars. How charming she looks. 



50 SOPHIE [Act I 

though I am afraid I have been sitting on her in 
the coach. 

Sophie 
Dorval, I haven't had my kiss. 

De Lauraguais 

Sophie! [She comes eagerly towards him. 
He is about to embrace her, then he stops.] Let me 
see, there is something else, isn't there? Have you 
a Homer in Greek in the house? I need a quota- 
tion for my essay. 

Sophie 

[Petulant now.] 
Dorval, I haven't had my kiss. 

De Lauraguais 
Ah well, never mind the Greek. My darling, 
how I have missed you. Sophie! Sophie! 

[And at last they are in each othefs arms.] 

Sophie 
Have you forgiven me, Dorval? 

De Lauraguais 
Have you forgiven me, Sophie? 

Sophie 
Why did we quarrel? 

De Lauraguais 
I have forgotten. Let us not try to remember. 



Act I] SOPHIE 51 

Sophie 
Was it because you said there was something I 
couldn't sing? 

De Lauraguais 
Now you are trying to remember so you can feel 
how sweet it is that you've forgotten. 

Sophie 
My dear, quaint Dorval. 

De Lauraguais 
Paris is changed. I have been gone a month. 

Sophie 
[Sitting down,] 
I have been so lonely. 

De Lauraguais 
And is Sophie still queen of the Royal Academy 
of Music? 

Sophie 
Still, Dorval? I have twenty years ahead of me 
to decide who is the next divinity. 

De Lauraguais 
[Looking about.] 
Ah, it is so nice to be home. 

Sophie 
Home? 



52 SOif>HlE [Act I 

Di: Lahraguais 
T ditiirt like sleeping on the little cot at Fort. 
Eveqiie tliough there was one advantage, Sophie, 1 
tlul have a fnie view of the stars. If I were a god I 
sJioultl hop from star to star just to surprise the 
planets, (hi \ tMuis I shoukl only speak the lan- 
guage ot Mars and on Jupiter that of the earth. 
Don't you think your Dorval would cause an awful 
stir among tht* i>lauets? 

Sophie 
Look, Minnette is eating the carpet. 

De Lauracuais 

Tlu^ hungry little darling. [He lifts the monkey 
up.\ There, I think sheMl be much happier on the 
harpsichord. 

Sophie 

What ai-e you doing? She will scratch the 
panels. Those lovely landscapes are by Boucher. 

De L\UKAGI)A1S 
[ Comforting her, ] 
Tt*s all right, Sophie, Mimu^tte loves landscapes. 
She was born in one. By the way, what have you 
done with the telescope. 

Sophie 
[Tenderl)\] 
I had it brought with me and pxit on the roof 
hen>. For the memory of the dear old times. 



Act 11 SOPITIF S3 

IH: Lahuacuais 
Ah, liow good it is to he \\oi\u\ When ilitl voii 
come here, Sophie? 1 lohl the driver to go straight 
to the Kiie des Petils ('liainps aiul when 1 got to the 
olil honse yi)n were goi\e. Only an inhospilahlo 
sign on the di>or. Ihil it dnesn't mailer. I have 
found you and it is eharnung here. \\ liere is our 
hedrotun, darling? I think 1 sliall j;o to heil and 
sleei> tor a week. Ihit please wake me at twelve 
Utnigiit. 

Sot'lUK 

[And her voice is warm.^ 
At twelve* tonight. 

De Laiu^acuais 
Yes, so I can go up on ll\e roof to the telescope. 
You know at any moment there n\ay be a neW star 
in the sky. [tlis arm is about her.] It is so sweet 
to be home. 

SoiMUE 

[ A little iiueniliuisl) . | 
Home? 

De Laitraouais 
[Not understanilin^ her tone.] 
Of course; wherever Sophie is, is home. 

SopuiK 
Hut — 



54 SOPHIE [Act I 

De Lauraguais 
[Reassuringly.} 
Oh, I shan't mind a bit if you have to be singing 
your scales as you used to. I'm sorry I ever 
minded, Sophie, indeed I am. Very often when I 
lay in my cell in jail I kept saying to myself how 
much sweeter it was to hear my Sophie singing than 
the prisoners' sawing wood. And you won't mind, 
will you, darling, if I go round without anything 
on? 

Sophie 
What? 

De Lauraguais 
Later on you must, too. I have decided to re- 
turn to the primitive life. I shall put myself in 
the mood and condition of Adam and then begin 
reforming the world. And you will help me, 
Sophie, dear? Everything is to be different, but 
don't be alarmed; we shall go about it naturally. 
Kiss me, dear. There are so many ancient cus- 
toms that can't be improved upon. Wait and see, 
darling, our home here will be the Mecca of all 
thinkers of the new school. What's the matter, 
dear? But don't stop pouting. There now, I shall 
kiss away all that's bothering you. Sophie! 

Sophie 
[Not knowing how to begin.] 
Dorval — 



Act I] SOPHIE 55 

De Lauraguais 
[Encouragingly, ] 
Darling, I assure you our new mode of life isn't 
going to interfere at all with your career. 

Sophie 
No? 

De Lauraguais 
[As a final concession.] 
I don't in the least mind your wearing clothes 
when you go to rehearsal. 

Sophie 
[Knowing that sooner or later he must be 
told.] 
Dorval, I have something to tell you. 

De Lauraguais 
[Smilingly expectant.] 
Of course you have. No woman ever lived who 
didn't have something to tell. 

Sophie 
My house is no longer in the Rue des Petites 
Champs. My home is here. 

De Lauraguais 
[With a denying shake of the head.] 
That is too literal, metaphysically speaking, 
one's home is the world, one's home is the journey 
twixt life and death, and the wise are those who 



56 SOPHIE [Act I 

pick the most beautiful flowers of opportunity along 
the way. Kiss me, dear. 

Sophie 
[Kissing him,^ 
I know all about that. 

De Lauraguais 
Of course, my little Sophie does. Is there any- 
thing in the world my Sophie doesn't know? And 
if there is, her Dorval knows it. But my Sophie is 
a prima donna and what does a prima donna know 
of the realm of the spirit? It will take you a while 
perhaps to understand our new mode of life. 

Sophie 
[Hesitatingly, 1 
But there are so many things — 

De Lauraguais 

[Again profoundly agreeing,] 
Things, things, the ever abiding curse of the ma- 
terial, but as far as I am concerned this house is 
empty. I won't let anything stand in the way of 
truth. You are its only reality. Saint Francis 
knew. He knew that he who has nothing, has all. 
You are the only nothing that I want, you and 
silence. 

[He takes her in his arms. There is a long, 
delicious embrace, 1 



Act I] SOPHIE 57 

Sophie 
[Timidly,] 
Dorval. 

De Lauraguais 

[As he kisses her.] 
Yes, yes, it is sweeter here than in jail. 

Sophie 
Darling. 

De Lauraguais 
Now we are alone upon a mountain top. 

Sophie 
I wish we were. 

De Lauraguais 
We are. Sing, Sophie, we are so near heaven 
that I think the angels will bend down to hear and 
take lessons from your throat. What a sweet, 
throbbing throat. It's as white as my kitten's and 
your eyes are like two planets. See, I can look 
down upon the whole smiling landscape of your 
face. Sing like a host of nightingales. 

Sophie 
That's very elaborate, Dorval dear, but I must 
save my voice, for tonight I rehearse. 

De Lauraguais 
The divine Arnould to lift her voice in an empty 
theatre? 



58 SOPHIE [Act I 

Sophie 
No, dear, 1 have progressed. The first condition 
I made to Gkick before I consented to save his 
opera for liini was that we should rehearse where I 
wished. 

De Lauuaguais 
Is his music beautiful? 

Sophie 
Yes, but it needs the singing, and what Gluck has 
left out your Sophie will put in. 

De Lauraguais 
Before I left Levasseur was to create Iphigenia. 

Sophie 

[Loohiiig up at hiiti.ll 

And now it is your Sophie. 

De Lauraguais 
Yes, I knew you would manage it somehow. 

Sophie 
I have, Dorval. 

[She turns away and tears are beginning 
on her lashes.^ 

De Lauraguais 
How sweet of Sophie to feel so sadly about 
Levasseur. 



Act I] SOPHIE 59 

Sophie 
I think it has cost me too much. 

De Lauraguais 
What, dear? 

Sophie 
It means that you must be careful, Dorval, very 
careful. 

De Lauraguais 
I, Sophie? What have I to do with this? The 
intrigues of the opera have never touched me. 
[And then as a finality for all tinie.^ When two 
singers are at the game the only safe place for sen- 
sitivity is death or a dungeon. Why should I be 
careful? 

Sophie 
Dearest, you cannot start your nude Utopia here. 

De Lauraguais 
Why not? Is this not virgin soil? 

Sophie 
Yes, dear, so to speak but only so to speak. 
[She turns further away.] Dorval — [She 
stops.] 

De Lauraguais 
I hope all this indecision has not got into your 
art. 



60 SOPHIE [Act I 

Sophie 
No, in singing my attack is still perfect, though 
the critics rave. 

De Lauraguais 
Come then, darling, what is it? 

Sophie 
[For she must begin.] 
This is no longer the little house in the Rue des 
Petites Champs. 

De Lauraguais 

No? 

Sophie 
My Dorval will not find it the garden of Eden. 

De Lauraguais 
Where you are, dear — 

Sophie 
Yes, adored one, but your Sophie is, so to speak, 
not alone in Eden. 

De Lauraguais 

What? 

Sophie 
[Ever so reticently now,] 
That — that is, darling, — 

De Lauraguais 
You mean the serpent is lurking bare? 



Act I] SOPHIE 61 

Sophie 
I think that's putting it a little too fiercely, Dor- 
val, but this is the home of Mercy d'Argenteau, the 
Ambassador from Austria. 

De Lauraguais 
[Suddenly jumping up,] 
And you? 

Sophie 
Oh, sit down, darling. I am the mistress of the 
menage. 

De Lauraguais 
My God, Sophie, you have not done that? 

Sophie 
Dearest, only for my art. 

De Lauraguais 
Sophie! 

Sophie 
Or my ambition, call it what you will. I have 
never lied to you, Dorval; now, then, take my two 
hands in yours and listen to your Sophie. [Re- 
luctantly he sits down next to her.] This Gluck 
arrives with his opera. The Dauphiness orders its 
production for the greater glory of Austria. It is 
the most magnificent part that has ever fallen to the 
lot of a prima donna. It is the most famous pre- 



62 SOPHIE [Act I 

miere that will ever be sung at the Royal Academy 
of Music, perhaps anywhere in all the world, Dor- 
val, all the world. Who was there to create such 
a part but your Sophie? Months ahead Levasseur 
began her campaign. She played the game, so 
Paris thought, triumphantly. Two weeks after 
Gluck arrived he was lord and master of her boring 
menage. During all this Paris pitied Sophie — 
your Sophie, darling — ^pitied me! But the morn- 
ing Rosalie awoke to see Gluck's wig hanging on 
her bedpost, Sophie awoke as mistress of Mercy 
d'Argenteau, Ambassador from Austria. Rosalie 
had got her composer but Sophie had got the Court. 
And she who has got the Court of Austria has got 
the delicious, wilful Marie Antoinette, and she who 
has got the delicious, wilful Marie Antoinette has 
got the power and so because of my unequalled 
genius, though the part was always rightly mine, 
by a little swifter shuffling of the aces, Dorval, to- 
morrow night your adored one creates the role of 
Iphigenia; Paris will go mad with ecstasy, Levas- 
seur will die of rage, and I shall be done for ever 
with His Honour, the Ambassador from Austria. 

De Lauraguais 
Good God, Sophie! 

Sophie 
What is it, darling? 



Act I] SOPHIE 63 

De Lauraguais 
I am ever prepared for newness to the mind but 
when it hits the heart — 

Sophie 

Has my triumph touched your heart? Here, a 
kiss for that. 

[She bends towards him.] 

De Lauraguais 
[Shrinking back.] 
Sophie, has God gone blind in your heart? 

Sophie 
Whatever do you mean, Dorval? 

De Lauraguais 
What do I mean! Do you mean to say that you 
do not know that even though you are the most 
generous woman in the world there are certain 
things which cannot be shared? Have you forgot- 
ten that I was the first man you ever loved? That 
when we eloped together from your parents' house 
we swore that I should be the only one? 

[And now it is Sophie's turn to spring up.] 

Sophie 
Dorval, can I ever forgive your words? 

De Lauraguais 
Sophie, can I ever forgive your disloyalty to me? 



64 SOPHIE [Act I 

There I lay in prison, all the while I kept saying to 
myself, life is bitter, what is there left for me, what, 
what? And then my heart would whisper: So- 
phie's love, Sophie's loyalty, and the parrot would 
echo: Sophie's loyalty. [And now his voice is 
quivering.] Ah, bitter mockery from that chest of 
feathers. No, this is too much even for a scientist 
to bear. Now I see why I cannot start here the 
beautiful free life that I resolved upon in prison. 
Now I see why I will not be able to go about re- 
turning to Nature with nothing on. I have come 
back but to go away again. [He gets up, putting 
the marmoset back into his pocket,] Life should 
have spared me this at least. 

Sophie 
What, darling? 

De Lauraguais 
The terrible, unbearable indignity of seeing you 
belong to another. 

[At this Sophie bursts into a long and re- 
lieving laugh,] 

Sophie 
Dorval, the Ambassador is nearly seventy and his 
left eyebrow is pasted on. 

De Lauraguais 
You mean — 



Act I] SOPHIE 65 

Sophie 
This, my adored one, is only a relationship of 
form. I will explain. The exchange on Austrian 
notes had fallen off. The credit of the Austrian 
Empire was at stake. Some great play had to be 
made to recoup its reputation. The moment was 
auspicious for your Sophie. What could the Am- 
bassador from the nation beyond the Rhine do to 
win back the loss of its financial prestige? What 
sudden move to prove that its financial power was 
still intact? What would be best known in Paris? 
What helpful news would be boomed through half 
of Europe? Why this, this, Dorval [and her voice 
is vibrant], that Sophie Amould, the greatest and 
most costly prima donna in all the world was mis- 
tress of the Embassy to Austria. No nation that 
was tottering could afford the graceful presence of 
your Sophie at the Embassy. That's a luxury 
which might be called extravagant but which Eu- 
rope knows is worth the price. 

De Lauraguais 
And you, my darling? 

Sophie 
Marie Leginska is queen of France but Du Barry 
is recipient of all the Royal intimacies. Your 
Sophie, Dorval, is the Marie Leginska to the Em- 
bassy. 



66 SOPHIE [Act I 

De Lauraguais 
Sophie! 

Sophie 
And with great success. The Austrian notes are 
over par and I myself from investments on the 
Exchange have put away enough for you to have 
a beautiful new menagerie for all the beasts that 
roam the world. 

De Lauraguais 
[Joyfully taking the marmoset from his 
pocket, ^^ 
What do you think of that, Minnette? I will im- 
port from Asia, from the most perfumed depths of 
Cashmere, a tiny mate for you. Polly, my faithful 
friend [and out comes the parrot], didn't I whisper 
to you through all the hours of the night that Sophie 
was a genius? 

Sophie 
But everything must be managed nicely, at least 
whilst His Honour is about. Dorval, your Sophie 
must retain the form. It wouldn't be proper to 
have you about the house except at certain times,— 
certain exquisite, blissful but — ^prearranged times, 
particularly, darling, now that you intend going 
about clad only in your sincerity. 

De Lauraguais 
Ohj what a delightful way you have of saying 



Act I] SOPHIE 67 

things. One kiss because you are as wise as 
Hypatia, two others because you are more beautiful 
than Cleopatra and three because — 

Sophie 
[Amid the kisses.]^ 
I'm Sophie. After tomorrow night all will be 
as it used to. 

De Lauraguais 

[Softly.] 
And tonight? 

Sophie 

[In his arms.] 
It is of tonight that I have been dreaming, of to- 
night, dearest. After the rehearsal you will climb 
up by the balcony — that will be so romantic — it 
will be almost as though we were beginning para- 
dise again. 

De Lauraguais 
Sophie! Sophie! 

Sophie 
We have so much to tell each other I think it will 
take till dawn. 

De Lauraguais 
And when will the rehearsal be over? 

Sophie 
Whenever I am ready. All I have to do is to lift 



68 SOPHIE [Act I 

my little finger and Papa Gluck trembles. At mid- 
night, Dorval. 

De Lauraguais 
Sophie, it is twenty years till midnight. 

Sophie 
Every minute until then I shall speak your name 
out loud, — tliough not too loudly, — like this [and 
her hands are clasped in ecstasy tvhile she whispers] 
Dorval, Dorval! 

De Lauraguais 
Every minute I shall kiss tlie air like this [and 
he catches her in his arms and rains kisses on her 
lips, saying softly] Sophie, Sophie! 

Sophie 
Dorval, until midnight. 

De Lauraguais 

And tlien for ever. But on tlie way I saw the 
moon over my left shoulder. 

Sophie 
Well, what of it, it was still the moon, wasn't it? 

De Lauraguais 
It is an omen. All truth is hid in omens. Once 
I consulted an astrologer, it was in Baluchistan. 
He said if one sees the moon on Tuesday over the 



Act I] SOPHIE 69 

left shoulder it means that to attain the heart's de- 
sire will take much wit and sudden tact. 

Sophie 
[Ever so tenderly,] 
Dorval, at midnight. Nothing in the world can 
prevent it, my own lover. 

De Lauraguais 
[Echoing her tone.] 
Nothing, you are right, nothing. 

[They are in a mad embrace. Suddenly 
there is a knock at the door.] 

Sophie 

What's that? I have forbidden the servants even 
to knock. [The sound is repeated.] It's from the 
library. Why, that's his Reverence. [She lifts 
her voice.] Come in. 

[The Abbe enters cautiously with a letter 
in his hand.] 

Sophie 
[Presenting the two gentlemen.] 
Father, let me introduce my first sin to my last 
confessor. 

The Abbe 

[Bowing to De Lauraguais.] 
Sir. [Then to Sophie] My daughter, you will 
forgive me, but one of the lackeys gave me this 



70 SOPHIE [Act I 

letter saying tihat you had forbidden them even to 
knock. 

Sophie 
Is it so urgent? 

The Abbe 
The lackey said that the third secretary of the 
Ambassador delivered it dispatched to you and that 
therefore you might care to see it immediately. 

Sophie 
What is it? 

[She is about to take the letter, 1 

De Lauraguais 
Don't touch it. I have again just seen the moon 
over my shoulder through the window. Father, 
you must first bless the letter. 

Sophie 
Don't be silly, Dorval, we are not in Baluchistan. 
The letter. Your Reverence. 

The Abbe 
I hope its news is blessed. 

Sophie, 
I will make it so. 

[She takes the letter and sits down to read 
it. First a smile comes into her face, then a 
look of intense surprise, then one of raging 
anger as she springs to her feet,^ 



Act I] SOPHIE 71 

Sophie 
By all the circles of the hell of Dante, no! no!! 

The Abbe 
Is the premiere postponed? Calm yourself. 

Sophie 
[Storming up and down.] 
This is too much, too much. Dorval, you've 
looked at the moon to some purpose. Curse the 
moon, curse your looking and most of all curse 
this! [The letter, of course.] 

De Lauraguais 
What is it, dear? 

The Abbe 
Shall I go? 

Sophie 
Go or stay. What difference does it make? 
This is a matter past your praying. 

[She has sunk down on the seat of the 
harpsichord and in a paroxysm of rage begins 
hitting the keys.] 

The Abbe 

You will break the strings. Remember the re- 
hearsal. 

Sophie 

Damnation to the rehearsal. To hell with every- 



72 SOPHIE [Act I 

thing. Your pardon, Father. Never, never, 
never! 

[She is beating the letter with her clenched 
fist,] 

De Lauraguais 
Very well, my darling, "never" — but never 
what? 

Sophie 
This. Listen [and she reads the letter], "Hon- 
oured and Adored Mademoiselle: You have 
crowned my house and table with the glory of your 
presence and the distinguished wit of your mind. 
Tonight after the rehearsal for the first time I shall 
avail myself of the privilege of tasting the charming 
graces of your beauty in a less distant way. Surely 
to a lady of your swift intelligence I need write 
no more. With a thousand most profound respects, 
I sign myself, Your most obedient servant, and may 
I say, your lover, D'Argenteau." [She crushes the 
letter in her hand.] The ridiculous old imbecile. 
The dusty, unbelievable jelly-fish. Father, call 
down the wrath of heaven on him. 

The Abbe 
That is a most unusual demand. 

Sophie 
Are you referring to the letter? Of course it is. 
Outrageous! If he'd only waited until after the 



Act I] SOPHIE 73 

premiere tomorrow night I would have sent him 
flying, the old conglomeration of ancient impu- 
dence. 

De Lauraguais 
And now, now? 

Sophie 
Now what? 

De Lauraguais 
What are you going to do? 

Sophie 

How do I know? Father, can you give me no 
spiritual advice? 

The Abbe 

The situation, my daughter, I am afraid is not in 
the catechism. 

Sophie 

Of course, of course, when one needs your help 
what good are you with all your hymning? 
Heaven forgive me but I'm all distraught. 

The Abbe 

My daughter, control yourself. 

De Lauraguais 
Yes, for the Lord's sake, Sophie, do, — for with- 
out you we will all be lost. [Dejectedly he sits 
down.] And I was to climb up the balcony and it 
was to be so romantic. 



74 SOPHIE [Act I 

Sophie 
[With a sob, half anger, half despair,^ 
Don't, don't, you are killing me. 

The Abbe 
Will you drink a glass of wine? 

Sophie 
Rather a goblet of tears and those my own. 
Dorval! Dorval! 

De Lauraguais 
[Not knowing what to do.l^ 
Sophie, Sophie! 

Sophie 

Oh, don't keep saying Sophie, Sophie, just be- 
cause I keep saying Dorval, Dorval. Sophie, 
Sophie! Don't you suppose I know I'm Sophie? 
Let me think, let me think! 

De Lauraguais 
By all means do — do. 

[She is again storming up and down.] 

The Abbe 

My daughter, with your permission I will wait in 
the library. 

Sophie 
That's it, bury yourself in the Fathers of the 



Act I] SOPHIE 75 

Church and leave us living people to our living 
problems. Would to God you had never come in. 

The Abbe 
My daughter — 

Sophie 

[Excitedly.] 
I mean with the letter — oh, I don't know what I 
mean. 

The Abbe 
Why don't you pray? Prayer works miracles. 

Sophie 
Pray! Pray that a man that has been showering 
me with money and whose power I needed, pray 
that that man should be damned to eternity because 
he has dared to ask me for the favour of my beauty. 
Oh, such a thing has never been heard before either 
in heaven or on earth. And because of that you 
tell me to pray. 

The Abbe 

[Calmly.] 
I must acknowledge, my dear, that the circum- 
stances are slightly peculiar, but nevertheless I 
shall be waiting in the library if you need me. 

[And with his hands behind his back he 
most thoughtfully makes his exit.] 



76 SOPHIE [Act I 

Sophie 
The sly old libertine. 

De Lauraguais 
[Looking after The Abbe.] 
What, he? 

Sophie 
No, not he, not he. [And she has thrown the 
letter to the floor and is stamping on it. Suddenly 
her mood changes and she says very tenderly:] 
Dorval, my darling, what has become of our mid- 
night? 

De Lauraguais 
Love will find a way. 

Sophie 
[Fairly shrieking at him.] 
"Love will find a way." Oh, spare me that, not 
that. Not love, but Sophie. I haven't been yearn- 
ing for you for weeks and weeks to give you up 
now when you've just come back. 

De Lauraguais 
But you can be ill tonight. 

Sophie 

111? Tonight I must rehearse. Gluck will 

never open tomorrow if we do not rehearse tonight. 

So much satisfaction I cannot give to Rosalie. And 

as for D'Argenteau, if I were to swear I were at 



Act I] SOPHIE 77 

death's door, that infamous old reprobate would be 
waiting on the other side, till either I was well or 
had in earnest died. 

De Lauraguais 
[As though indeed it were hopeless.li 
Well, and what will you do? 

Sophie 
Something, something. I am Sophie Arnould. 
If only by some means we could be rid of this Am- 
bassador until tomorrow. [She stops in front of 
the harpsichord.] If only there were a way. 

De Lauraguais 
[Coming towards her.] 
Darling, have you forgotten me? 

Sophie 
No, darling, do I act as if I had? 

De Lauraguais 
Sophie, you have not counted on me. Am I for 
nothing the best swordsman in France? Have I for 
nothing studied every herb which has the slightest 
pretension of being called a poison? Do I not 
know the secret botany of Persia? Is it to be 
wasted in the time of direst need that I can shoot a 
gold ring hung from a pigeon's neck, said pigeon 
being at the time of shooting in full flight? 
Sophie, have you forgotten me? 



78 SOPHIE [Act I 

Sophie 
No, there must be no killing. I do not see the 
use of a lover who is hanging from a gibbet. I 
am a realist. Wait, wait, I will find a way. [She 
stops deep in thought.] There must be some way, 
Dorval dear. [And now she is over next to him 
and they are again in each other's arms.] If all 
goes well at midnight, Dorval, — ^midnight. 

De Lauraguais 
Sophie! 

Sophie 

We shall see what the wit of France can do 

against this Austrian. [She glances up, a look of 

mighty cogitation in her eyes. Then suddenly] 

Yes, that would do if somehow I could manage it. 

De Lauraguais 

[Magnificently. ] 
If all else fail, my darling, I will sacrifice my 
life to save your innocence! 

Sophie 
Dorval dear, you are very brave and very in- 
genious, but even you cannot save what doesn't 
exist. 

[And as they kiss again the curtain falls.] 



ACT II 

Half-past nine, which 
leaves Sophie in danger. 



ACT II 

De Lauraguais is discovered at a table near the 
harpsichord, assiduously writing with a big 
quill. The Abbe with a sort of curious ad- 
miration stands watching him. On the table, 
beside the sheets of De Lauraguais' manu- 
script, is a flask of wine and several glasses. 

The Abbe 
Monsieur, I admire your separation, to be able 
thus to write when the air seems tinged with tor- 
ment for you and Madame Sophie. 

De Lauraguais 
[Looking up.] 
Sophie is at the helm. The higher the sea the 
more expert will be her steering. She is an ador- 
able captain. 

The Abbe 
At what are you at work? 

De Lauraguais 
On my new tragedy. The great Voltaire is wait- 
ing at Verney to hear it. Are you fond of tragedy? 
Will you hear a scene? It is in seven acts and its 
theme is the conquest of the spirit over the flesh. 

That is why I call it a tragedy. 

8i 



82 SOPHIE [Act II 

The Abbe 

So? 

De Lauraguais 
Man's greatest desire is to be his deepest undo- 
ing. The theme's a deep one but I think my genius, 
if I let it go unbridled, can encompass it. 

The Abbe 
Do you find it difficult to write great plays? 

De Lauraguais 
Not at all. All I do is write many very compli- 
cated scenes which no one can understand and I am 
immediately hailed as a genius. Playwriting I 
take as a pastime. My profounder thoughts are 
for something else. 

The Abbe 
[Glancing towards Sophie's boudoir,'] 
My son, I understand. 

De Lauraguais 
[But you see The Abbe doesn't,] 
Yes, for my History of Arithmetic. That will 
be something that will startle the world. It will 
earn for me an invitation into the Academy of the 
Immortals but I shall spurn it. Honours are not 
for the honourable. Who are these immortals? 
[He goes on scratching away.] In a hundred 



Act II] SOPHIE 83 

years they will be entombed in the cenotaph of the 
world's forgetfulness. 

The Abbe 
Sic transit — 

De Lauraguais 
Are you interested in the more abstract problems 
of arithmetic? 

The Abbe 
I would have to be if I were to number the num- 
ber of souls to be saved. 

De Lauraguais 

Have you ever asked yourself why there should 
be only three dimensions? Have you ever con- 
sidered why two and two should make four and not 
something else? 

[From Sophie's boudoir comes a beautiful 
voice in a shower of scales,^ 

De Lauraguais 
That is Sophie oiling up for Papa Gluck. 

[And now a cadence sung in purest legato 
style sustained in pianissimo,!^ 

De Lauraguais 
Listen, all of hope, all of despair crowded into a 
perfect phrase. 



84 SOPHIE' [Act II 

The Abbe 
You're something of a musical critic, too? 

De Lauraguais 

I am everything that time will let me be. 

[Two or three notes soaring and then the 
voice is stilL^ 

De Lauraguais 
Now she is still and the silence seems like silver, 
like the silence in a meadow when a rabbit suddenly 
sticks up its ridiculously long ears. Have you 
had much to do with rabbits? If we knew all about 
rabbits we would know all about everything that 
ever was. Abstractions are the only realities. 

[Now a series of leaps and trills from the 
boudoir. 1 

De Lauraguais 
Listen, she is trilling like a lark whose tiny 
bosom is too small for so great a passion. [He 
calls in to /ler.] Darling, do you mind not singing 
quite so loud? I am just in the midst of a splendid 
scene in Act Six. How extraordinary my Sophie 
is. She can face a climax with a song on her lips. 
[More scales and trills.] Would you mind closing 
the door? 

[The Abbe is about to.] 

Sophie's Voice 
What are you doing, Dorval? 



Act II] SOPHIE 85 

De Lauraguais 
Dimming your voice, darling. 

Sophie 
What? 

De Lauraguais 

It's so beautiful that in another moment your 
rapt confessor here will believe that he is in heaven 
and will have to kill himself to prove it. 

[The Abbe has closed the door, De 
Lauraguais finishes scrawling his page and is 
pleased with what he has written to the verge 
of tears,] 

The Abbe 
It's going well, isn't it? 

De Lauraguais 
Magnificently. Listen! 

[He stands up and is about to read.] 

The Abbe 

[Starting for the library, a thin little smile 
about his lips.] 
I will leave you to your genius. I think that 
perhaps my soul is too simple for all this glory. 

De Lauraguais 
As you will. But don't go on my account. You 
don't disturb me in the least. I'm bubbling over 
with inspiration. [He again sits down to his 



86 SOPHIE [Act II 

tragedy,] Nothing can disturb me now. Nothing. 
[But at this moment the door of Sophie's 
boudoir is opened and she stands on the 
threshold, radiantly gowned, her hair done in 
a fantastic coiffure, "d la Iphigenie," a cres- 
cent of diamonds ablaze above a cloud of 
chiffon, cerulean blue.] 

De Lauraguais 
[Glancing up from the splendid scene in 
Act Six,] 
Admirable, my darling, admirable, but why all 
the astronomy? 

Sophie 

I shall start a new fashion for Papa Gluck. 
Iphigenia is the virgin priestess of Diana. The 
moon, the chaste white moon is her symbol. Lest 
you have any doubts this is the moon. [And she 
points to the crescent in her hair.] For the next 
few months every lady in Paris will wear her hair 
like this. There are already pastries a la Sophie 
and sachets a la Sophie and babies named for 
Sophie. Why should there not be a headdress a 
la Sophie? I am a prima donna ; w*hen I am not in 
people's ears it is well that I should be in their 
heads. [Then to The Abbe.] Have you had 
your supper, Father? 



Act II] SOPHIE 87 

The Abbe 
Delicious chicken stuffed with truffles, souffle, al- 
mond cake and iced wine. 

Sophie 

Listen, Dorval, how he smacks his lips, and these 

remote Fathers of the Church are supposed to be 

removed from all earthly joys. Piety has its nice 

rewards. It makes it so easy to sin without sinning. 

The Abbe 
Madame, I shall be waiting in the library if you 
need me. 

Sophie 
[And right is hers,^ 
Who knows, I may. I always have my coach at 
the door, my blankets perfumed and a priest in the 
library. Life is so complicated. 

[And thoughtfully, his hands folded behind 
his back, he walks into the library,] 

Sophie 
Dorval, dear, for the first time in her life I think 
your Sophie is a little nervous. 

De Lauraguais 
What is it, dear? 

Sophie 

As a child of five I sang before the Queen with 
no more tremor than you might feel milking a 



88 SOPHIE [Act II 

cow in Brittany — of course I take it for granted 
that you know how to milk cows — but tonight, dear, 
events come cro.wding. You, Dorval dear, and 
Papa Gluck and then a way, a sure, quick, sudden 
way to be rid of this Ambassador. 

De Lauraguais 
And what will my sly little Sophie do? 

Sophie 
Something, dear. The instant you entered the 
house I knew that life which is sweet as a duet can 
never be sung as a trio. Dorval darling, D'Argen- 
teau must go. 

De Lauraguais 
Tell him, dear. 

Sophie 
Tell him! Hasn't that horrid old man found a 
sufficient reason for staying? 

De Lauraguais 
Hasn't my little lark a little influence? 

Sophie 
Of what use is all that now? 

De Lauraguais 

If my songstress could reach the King, His Maj- 
esty will understand. None better than His Maj- 



Act II] SOPHIE 89 

esty. Tell him we haven't even said good morning 
in a month. 

Sophie 

Du Barry doesn't love me. I cannot reach the 
King. 

De Lauraguais 
Well, then, there's Minister Choiseul. 

Sophie 
[Despondently, ] 
And he has left this evening for Vienna. 

De Lauraguais 
Ah, that's too bad! A word from him, a little 
letter, his word is law. The jails are filled with 
people Y/hom Choiseul doesn't love. 

Sophie 
Darling, it was Choiseul sent you back to me. 
Here's the dear letter that told me you were com- 
ing. [She takes the letter from the table, ^ Dor- 
val! Dorval! 

De Lauraguais 

[Again at his tragedy.] 
Darling, are there many rhymes for pageantry? 
[But Sophie doesnt know or at least she 
doesnt answer as she stands there deep in 
thought.] 



90 SOPHIE [Act II 

De Lauraguais 
How beautiful my Sophie is. 

[And he is up and has taken her in his 
arms,] 

Sophie 
Dorval, if it could be managed somehow. 

De Lauraguais 

Yes, dear? 

Sophie 
But what are we going to do? 

De Lauraguais 
Anything you say, dear, but you mustn't inter- 
rupt me again. A beautiful speech has just come 
to me. [And now he is back at the table writing.] 
And my Sophie ought to know that often murder 
is simpler than a beautiful speech. 

Sophie 
Murder, my gentle Dorval? [Her eyes are 
crinkled in consideration.] Ah, there's a thought 
on which to hang a deed. 

De Lauraguais 
[Oblivious.] 
This line should have a noble ending. [And he 
writes it, pleased.] 



Act II] SOPHIE 91 

Sophie 
[To herself,] 
If there were only a way. 

De Lauraguais 
Quiet, dear, quiet, quiet! 

Sophie 
There must be. [Dejectedly her head drops 
and she is looking at Choiseul's letter which is 
hanging from her hand.] There must be. [Then 
suddenly the idea comes to her,] Why not? 
There's half a page of space. Why not? [A sec- 
ond more and she has folded over the edge of 
Choiseul's letter and has torn off the lines that he 
has written,] If needs be, this, beside the soldiers. 
Why not, why not? 

De Lauraguais 
[Finishing the speech he's writing.] 
I've got it, dear! 

Sophie 

[And now she is seated at the table opposite 
to him,] 
And so have I. 

De Lauraguais 
Listen! [He reads from his manuscript.] "The 
purple blare of pageantry." What do you think 
of it? 



92 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
I don't think of it, darling. Go on with your 
tragedy. I'm beginning a pretty drama of my 
own. 

[And for a little while there is quiet whilst 
they both sit writing.] 

Sophie 

[With a flourish as she finishes.] 
I think by now the water will be hot enough to 
boil this ancient goose from Vienna. 

[And she has folded the letter and has stuck 
it in her bodice.] 

De Lauraguais 

[Still in flowing inspiration scribbling on.] 
Beautiful! Exquisite! This evening, dear, the 
muse is fluid. Beautiful! Beautiful! 

Sophie 
[Lovingly bending over him.] 
Have you no pity for that poor quill making it 
say all those pompous things? 

De Lauraguais 
[Finishing the sentence he is writing and 
sprinkling some sand on the manuscript.] 
And what is it my Sophie intends to do this eve- 
ning? 



Act II] SOPHIE 93 

Sophie 

All that is needed, Dorval, when his Excellency 
arrives. [Then in anger.] Oh, I can see him 
now, strutting in at the very moment when Rosalie 
will be enjoying the happiness of hearing me sing a 
beautiful B Flat — my B Flats are famous, Dorval. 
[Suddenly she bursts into song,] La-la-la la la la. 
Thank God, thank God, I still have it here. [She 
is pointing to her throat,] Ah, what an artist I 
am to retain my voice when at this very moment I 
know what is going on in the mind of that unblush- 
ing octogenarian of an Ambassador. First I must 
be rid of Gluck and his attendant angel, Rosalie. 
But that will be simple, Dorval, as simple as pluck- 
ing marigolds in May. Do marigolds grow in 
May? Ah well, no matter, and then for my Am- 
bassador. 

De Lauraguais 
[Still writing away,] 

Sophie, if he insists. 

Sophie 
Heaven, Dorval, will not desert a prima donna 
who has had the forethought to have a few gen- 
darmes, if necessary, waiting in the house, and if 
needs be a little letter. [And her hand is on her 
bosom.] 

De Lauraguais 
But has my Sophie forgotten that if she goes too 



94 SOPHIE [Act II 

far there is always the Count de Saint-Florentin 
and his dull, dark dungeons to make my Sophie 
behave? 

Sophie 

[Her voice the harbinger of a rage about to 
be born.^ 

Saint-Florentin! Dorval, if it weren't for him 

all Paris would be Sophie's [And then her voice 

is like a flute heard at the far end of a lane,] But 

Sophie and her sisters, the angels, will find a way. 

[The First Lackey enters,] 

Sophie 
What is it? 

The First Lackey 
Madame, there is a lady at the door who begs to 
see you. 

Sophie 
There always is. 

The First Lackey 
She is in need. 

Sophie 
Give her fifty francs. If she is no longer hand- 
some give her sixty. Where there is less beauty 
there is sure to be more need. 



Act II] SOPHIE 95 

The First Lackey 
Madame, she beseeches a moment's speech with 
you. 

Sophie 

Tell her I rehearse tonight and can see no one. 

The First Lackey 
Madame, your pardon, but it is the fourth time 
today that she has come whilst you — 
[He hesitates.] 

Sophie 
Oh, go on; don't you suppose I know that you 
know all that is happening in this house? I under- 
stand servants. My papa didn't keep an inn for 
nothing. 

The First Lackey 
[And in his eyes is the suggestion of a 
twinkle.] 
No, Madame, I don't suppose he did with wine 
fifty francs a keg. 

Sophie 
You were saying? 

The First Lackey 

That the lady has called four times today whilst 

you were riding back and forth to the Minister of 

State enquiring whether or no Monsieur the Count 

de Brancas Lauraguais would be set free so that 



96 SOPHIE [Act II 

you and he — if all goes well — would have the 
charming pleasure of each other's society at mid- 
night. 

Sophie 
Bravo! You are so frank that now I know you 
are not a spy of the Minister of Police. 

The First Lackey 
That would be so simple, Madame, and not 
nearly so enjoyable as serving you. Madame, we 
who serve in this world must also have our little 
pleasures. We can choose the employer who 
amuses us the most. And your house, Madame, is, 
I assure you, the most delightful one in Paris. 

Sophie 
Indeed? 

The First Lackey 
Ah, yes, indeed, Madame. Whilst the lackeys 
elsewhere have to wait several months to find out 
what is happening by reading the Secret Memoirs 
of the Police, I am proud to say that with you, my 
lady, it is much more diverting to get all the news 
first hand. 

Sophie 
[To De Lauraguais still busy on Act Six,] 
Dorval dear, that is how I retain my servants. I 
make life so piquant for them. 



Act II] SOPHIE 97 

The First Lackey 
Ah, Madame, if you only knew. [Perhaps he is 
laughing deep down his throat. 1^ How could I de- 
sert the services of a lady who said what you said 
to the Police Inspector when he questioned you the 
night after that very gay little supper party in the 
Rue des Petits Champs? It was Tuesday in a 
February, if I remember rightly. 

Sophie 
And what did I say? 

The First Lackey 
The talk had been very intimate about His 
Sovereign Majesty, the King. Your pardon, 
Madame, if I drink a glass of wine to the King. 

[He pours out a glass from the flask at the 
table at which De Lauraguais is writing.] 

Sophie 
[As the Lackey drinks.] 
Well, what did I say? 

The First Lackey 
[Putting down the glass and barely able to 
conceal his mirthful admiration.] 
Madame, when he came to question you as to 
what had been said you said you did not remember. 

Sophie 
Of course^ why not? 



98 SOPHIE [Act II 

The First Lackey 
And when he said that a woman like you should 
remember, you replied; — Madame, you will per- 
mit me [and he giggles behind his hand] you re- 
plied: "That before a man like him you were not 
a woman like you." Whilst I can expect some- 
thing as droll as that any day, Madame, I have no 
intention of living and listening in the house of any 
one except the divine Sophie Amould. 

Sophie 
Thanks. 

The First Lackey 
May I show the lady in? 

Sophie 
Any other time, but tonight — ^tonight — 

The First Lackey 

As you command me, Madame, but there is a 
look in her face as sad and as tragically beautiful 
as your own, Madame. That is, in your best mo- 
ments at the opera. 

Sophie 
You have heard me at the opera? 

• The First Lackey 
Indeed yes, Madame. You see, in my spare mo- 
ments I write the musical critiques for the First 



Act II] SOPHIE 99 

Lackey's Gazette, They have a first hand inti- 
mate tone but, of course, you do not read the 
Lackey's Gazette, I'm sorry you will not admit 
the lady. 

Sophie 
It is some silly child who wishes me to scrawl my 
name on the panels of her fan, or to stand god- 
mother to her unborn illegitimacy. They are al- 
ways coming to me for help and for advice. If it 
were not tonight I would aid her, I would help all 
my suffering sisters, but tonight I rehearse and 
besides — 

The First Lackey 
[Smoothly.] 
I shouldn't be worried if I were you, Madame. 
I think you will carry off with success whatever it 
is you are planning to do this evening to get rid of 
your honourable protector, the Ambassador from 
Austria. Now as to this young lady on your door- 
step — 

Sophie 

Go. I have heard enough of this lady on my 
doorstep. 

The First Lackey 
Again your pardon, Madame, but unless I am 
very much mistaken the lady is an aristocrat. 



100 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
[A little more interested.^ 
Indeed? 

The First Lackey 
Yes, my lady, each time she came back I left 
word that she was to come back again because I 
thought that you would care to speak to her. 

De Lauraguais 

[Writing away.^ 
But, Sophie, if you see all the people that stand 
on your doorstep — 

The First Lackey 
[ Very significantly. ] 
Madame, I should see her if I were you. 

Sophie 
[Reading his tone.} 
She is a woman. We women, the weak of the 
world, should stand together. 

The First Lackey 
Madame, I assure you, the young lady's emotion 
is very genuine. I am a judge of acting. I have 
studied the art of Madame Arnould. Unless I am 
greatly mistaken the matter with the lady is some- 
thing of the heart. 

[He is looking curiously at Sophie.] 



Act II] SOPHIE 101 

Sophie 
[Quickly.^ 
Show her in. Show her in. 

[And The First Lackey makes his exit,] 

Sophie 
Something of the heart? 

De Lauraguais 

Of course, when a woman is in trouble it is al- 
ways trouble with the heart. 

Sophie 
[Perhaps a little bit sentimentally.] 
Love wounds us and if we are not wounded we 
die because we're not. 

De Lauraguais 
And has my Sophie ever thought that the passion 
of love is as strong in a widow as in a young girl 
in whose trembling bosom the flame of love has been 
for the first time lighted? 

Sophie 
That is so. 

De Lauraguais 

But the widow hasn't the same excuse as the 
young girl, which is curiosity. 

Sophie 
No, Dorval, but habit, confirmed habit. Go, 



102 SOPHIE [Act II 

she is coming. Wait in the library with the Abbe. 
Woman to woman is fairer with no man about. 

[De Lauraguais exits and Sophie goes over 
to the mantelshelf and looks at the clock.^ 

Sophie 
Ten minutes before Papa Gluck arrives. [She 
sings a passage.] Tra la la la la la. Still there! 
still there! 

[The First Lackey stands in the door,] 

The First Lackey 
[Bowing.] 
Madame. 

[A young girl enters. Over her dress she 
wears a long cloak with a hood that all but 
hides her face.] 

Sophie 
Madame, you wish to speak to me? 

[The girls inclines her head. Sophie mo- 
tions to the Lackey and he exits.] 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, I am Vivienne de — [Suddenly she 
stops. She advances a step nearer to Sophie.] 
Madame Arnould, I have come to you — 
[Her voice falters.] 

Sophie 
Yes, Madame, sit down, sit down. 



Act II] SOPHIE 103 

ViVIENNE 

If you can spare me some few moments from 
your crowded life? 

Sophie 

You are right, my child. Never was my life 
more crowded than this evening. 

[ViVIENNE instinctively turns toward the 
door, a sob checking her voice,] 

Sophie 
[Tenderly, to stop her,] 
What is it, Madame? 

[Suddenly the girl rushes over and throws 
herself at Sophie's feet,] 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, you will pardon my rash impetuous- 
ness? 

Sophie 

My child, my child. [And she lifts the girl's 
hood, starting back in amazement but controlling 
her surprise,] How pale you are, how very pale! 

ViVIENNE 

Madame Arnould, I have come to you because 
you know the human heart. 

Sophie 
And your mother, child? 



104 SOPHIE [Act II 

ViVIENNE 

My mother, she is dead. 

Sophie 

[Quietly.] 
So! 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, you will know, you will understand. 
To my father, Madame, your name stands for all 
that — that — is evil. 

Sophie 
[Her lips tightening a little.] 
Indeed, my child? 

ViVIENNE 

But, Madame, you will tell me what to do. My 
father does not understand. To you life is no 
snare of blind prejudices. You will know, you 
will understand. To you life is no bitter tradi- 
tion to be followed but a gorgeous, free pattern to 
be made. Madame, you will help me. I have 
come to you because of all women in Paris you 
know the human heart. 

Sophie 
If I do it is because I have listened to life and 
not to lies. You are not the first girl, my child, 
who has come to Sophie Arnould. There, there. 



Act II] SOPHIE 105 

[ViviENNE is weeping now, her head is in 
Sophie's lap. Sophie is stroking her hair.] 

ViVIENNE 

You will tell me what to do? You will under- 
stand my suffering. I am on my knees to you as 
though to the Madonna. 

Sophie 
The Madonna? Do not let your imagination 
run away with you. 

Vivienne 
I am on my knees begging, beseeching you for 
your advice. Madame — 

Sophie 
[Quietly taking her hand.] 
So, it is something of the heart. 

Vivienne 
Madame, madame — 

Sophie 
We women! What are we but big children, 
amused with toys, lulled to sleep with flatteries and 
seduced with promises. I know, my child, you've 
given everything, your life, your love to some one 
who has cast it off as nothing. 

Vivienne 
[Hysterically.] 
Would to God I had. 



106 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
[And she is more surprised than she knows,] 
What? 

ViVIENNE 

Would to God I had! 

Sophie 

It is a gift, Madame, that deserves the giving and 
the taking. 

Vivienne 
[Sobbing.] 
I will tell you all, all. 

Sophie 

[Expectantly.] 
All? 

[She bends forward, looking into the girl's 
eyes and instinctively again Vivienne turns 
away. There is a pause.] 

Sophie 
All or nothing, Madame, as you will. 

Vivienne 
What am I to do? What? I am so terribly in 
love that — 

Sophie 
When are we women not? 



Act II] SOPHIE 107 

ViVIENNE 

And now he is going away for ever. 

Sophie 
I do not understand. I thought love to most men 
was like an enigma. When the puzzle is solved 
then the interest ceases. 

ViVIENNE 

We love as none have ever loved before. 

Sophie 
Yes, it is thus each time and each time it is true. 

ViVIENNE 

But my father, Madame. 

[Suddenly the light dawns on something not 
quite so near to Sophie's knowledge, for she, 
even as a young girl, had taken her own des- 
tiny into her hands and eloped with De Laura- 

GUAIS.] 

Sophie 
Your father? Then this is a tragedy of a father 
and not a step too far. 

[She is again peering into the girl's face.^ 

ViVIENNE 

[In terror.] 
Madame, you know who my father is? 

Sophie 
[Avoiding the intenseness of her gaze."] 



108 SOPHIE [Act II 

A gentleman, I am sure, Madame, for you are his 
daughter. 

ViVIENNE 

He has forbidden it, Madame. Never will a pen- 
niless soldier, even though he is a captain, be his 
son-in-law. Today he has driven Etienne from <the 
house. Madame, I am distraught, distraught. 

Sophie 
Well, there's tomorrow. 

ViVIENNE 

[Bitterly,] 
Tomorrow. 

Sophie 
Tomorrow. The cure or grave of all things. 

ViVIENNE 

[Tearfully,] 
That is not all. 

Sophie 
Madame, you must be calm. I must know. 
How else can I help you? 

ViVIENNE 

[Attempting to control herself,] 
I will tell you everything. 

Sophie 

Yes? 



Act II] SOPHIE 109 

ViVIENNE 

My father has acted swiftly. 

Sophie 
And you? 

ViVIENNE 
I am at my wits' end. My heart is flooded with 
agony. Etienne is my soul, my life. 

Sophie 
[Again gently stroking her hair.] 
Madame, Madame. 

ViVIENNE 

Life w^ithout him is death, death. 

Sophie 
I know. 

ViVIENNE 

That is why I have come to you for help. 

Sophie 
[And her lip is maybe curled a little.] 
To the first lady in France that a father would 
have chosen as a confidante. 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, do not jest with me. 



110 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
I am not jesting, but why, why, I wonder, has 
the web of life weaving so far apart spun you and 
me together? 

ViVIENNE 

My father has used his power. He is a friend, 
Madame [and her voice comes slowly now] of 
Choiseul. 

Sophie 
Choiseul? 

[Half consciously her hand again covers 
the letter in her bosom. There is a pause. 
She is waiting for Vivienne to go on.] 

ViVIENNE 

[After a moment.] 
Through the power of the Minister of State, Eti- 
enne's Regiment has been transferred. As I speak, 
Madame, they are about to leave for Le Havre and 
then, — then America. He will never come back, 
Madame, there are rumours of war in America. 

Sophie 
Are there? Like Marie Antoinette I think that 
the operas of Gluck are of more importance than 



Act II] SOPHIE 111 

the trifling troubles of these barbarians. America, 
America. I seem to have heard the name. Is it 
not the abode of wild men with huge feathers and 
tiny tomahawks? But your soldier, my child? 

ViVIENNE 

[Her voice like an aeolian harp aswing 
in the wind.] 
He will never come back. Never! [Then with 
tragic emotion,] If I'd only given myself to him, 
there at least would have been the memory of that 
before I die. Would to God I had, would to God 
I had! 

Sophie 
Ah, my child, how brave these words are, this 
giving and this dying. How many girls are there 
like you whose life has suddenly become a dream of 
wild romance in a safe little world of satin, how 
many are there, as exquisite as you, who can give 
themself to a man except in marriage and still hold 
him and his love and his respect? No, do not 
shriek out, — do not say what's in your heart that 
love is all that matters — sometimes, yes. Some 
day when you are older you will know that I am 
right. 

ViVIENNE 

Oh, would that I were dead ! 



112 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
Yes, yes, but one must be alive to wish it. Do 
not turn away. 

ViVIENNE 

Madame! 

Sophie 

My child, how many women are there, do you 
think, of all who have died for love? Your sort, 
my child, and mine, how many are there who, if 
they could have spoken, after the filthy river had 
flowed into their mouths would have said that the 
deed was worth the doing. No! Fate means it 
another way for you. You must marry Etienne. 

Vivienne 
[Desperately,] 
Marry Etienne ! How? How? 

Sophie 
I see it clearly written in your eyes. Your frailty 
will be your strength. You will be safer in the 
fortress that the world calls marriage. As for us 
others, well, my dear, if a woman would fly into the 
face of the world she must have either a terrible 
bravery or a more terrible contempt. There, there! 
I'm wasting all this breath and in a few moments 
I'm to sing for Gluck. You must marry Etienne. 

Vivienne 
[Tragically,] 
Madame, as you speak his regiment is leaving 



Act II] SOPHIE 113 

Paris. If he deserts his regiment it is death. If 
he goes I know he never will return. 

Sophie 
You are right. He never will return. 

ViVIENNE 

Don't say that. Don't say that. 

Sophie 
He will never return because he will not go. 

ViVIENNE 

What, Madame? 

Sophie 
I said he will not go. 

ViVIENNE 

Who will prevent him? 

Sophie 
[Calmly.] 
I. 

ViVIENNE 

How? How? 

Sophie 
Give me a moment to think it over. It will take 
swift action and some little tact. 

ViVIENNE 

[At a loss,] 
Madame, is this an affair of tact? 



114 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
Of course, all things are. Tact is to know how, 
when, [5/ie has got up.~\ This is not so simple, 
but I am Sophie. 

[And now she is pacing up and down think- 
ing of away,] 

ViVIENNE 

[Following her, her arms outstretched,!^ 
Hasten, Madame, hasten. 

Sophie 
My dear, I advise you not to make love to Eti- 
enne as quickly as you follow me about. Ardour 
is all in the nuance. 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, you are making sport of me. When I 
leave your house tonight it will be to die. 

Sophie 
Then I do not think you will leave my house to- 
night until — Ah, if at this moment I only had the 
royal seal of France. 

ViVIENNE 

Hurry! Hurry! 

Sophie 
But failing that I still have my imagination, 



Act II] SOPHIE 115 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, at this moment Etienne's regiment is 
leaving Paris. 

[She is sobbing violently,] 

Sophie 
Don't, I beg of you. Your sobbing drowns my 
thoughts. How shall we do it? How? [She is 
at the table at which De Lauraguais has been writ- 
ing his tragedy.] Ah, if I only had his quaint 
imagination. [She has taken up Dorval's quill 
and is pressing it to her lips.] Dorval! Dorval! 

ViVIENNE 

What, Madame? 

Sophie 
Nothing, I am thinking. [And she is, her shoul- 
der on the table, her tiny thumb pressed against 
her teeth.] Shall it be the Queen? 

ViVIENNE 

Her Majesty! 

Sophie 
No, no one has ever heard of the Queen in Paris. 
[More cogitation.] Du Barry? No, with that 
cherub's smile of hers she'd use the trick against 
me. 

ViVIENNE 

Hasten! Hasten! 



116 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 

My dear, Rome wasn't built in a day though 

burnt in an hour. Who's left at Court whose name 

would matter? Why not the Dauphiness? Yes, 

she's my friend. Yes, Marie Antoinette will do. 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, you do not know my father. It is too 
late, to appeal to the Court. 

Sophie 
Don't be ridiculous. We will not appeal to the 
Court. The Court will appeal to us. 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, I do not understand. 

Sophie 
Of course you don't. Now I will tell you more 
that you do not understand. The Dauphiness de- 
sires the presence of this lad in Paris. 

ViVIENNE 

[Aghast.] 
Madame! 

Sophie 

[Smiling,] 

How swift you are, but wrong. / say she wishes 

it. She has used me to obtain her will. Such a 

letter a Princess dare not write herself. Yes, that 

will do. Marie Antoinette, Sophie Arnould — that 



Act II] SOPHIE 117 

will do, that will do. [Then as the quill rushes 
on,] Where is your soldier now? 

ViVIENNE 

At his Barracks — Rue Sainte Margarette. 

Sophie 
Rue Sainte Margarette. Some thirty words, 
much dark intention, two mighty names and the 
deed is done. Listen! [and she reads ivhat she 
has written,] "Sir Honoured Major Colonel of 
the Seventh Cadets, Rue Sainte Margarette. As 
you are a soldier and a gentleman this shall be se- 
cret until the end of time. At the urgent wish of 
no less a one than Her Serene Highness, Marie 
Antoinette, I address you. For reasons of State 
and of most vital moment to the heart and realms 
of Austria and France, dispatch at once Captain 
Etienne" — [then speaking] why look, I've forgot- 
ten his name. What is it? 

ViVIENNE 

Etienne! 

Sophie 
Of course Etienne. But what, what? 

ViVIENNE 

Etienne Mars. 

Sophie 
Etienne Mars! Splendid! Thank God the 
name's a s^hort one. See, I can ju^ crowd it in. 



118 SOPHIE [Act II 

Etienne Mars. Was ever a gallant soldier more 
gallantly named? [Then again reading,] "Of 
most vital moment to the heart of France, despatch 
at once to the Austrian Embassy, Captain Etienne 
Mars. Some day my arms may be about your 
neck in gratitude." [She looks up.] Tha't alone 
would be sufficient. [Then back to the letter,] 
"Yours in the guarding of a mighty name, Sophie 
Arnould." [And in her eyes already sits the vic- 
tory.] Sophie Arnould, Marie Antoinette, not 
even Saint Anthony could resist two such lovely 
names. [She is up from the table.] Now you 
must do as I bid you. 

ViVIENNE 

Whatever you wish, Madame. Whatever you 
say. 

Sophie 
Good ! Sit down. You, too, must write a letter. 
[And ViVIENNE sits waiting whilst Sophie 
stands in thought.] 

Sophie 
How shall we word your farewell to your father? 

ViVIENNE 

Farewell? 

Sophie 
Of course, my dear, the matter's tragic. 



Act II] SOPHIE 119 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, you will save Etienne? 

Sophie 
Yes, yes. Here take this quill. [She lifts the 
one that De Lauraguais Jms been using.] It is 
used to tragedy. 

[Vivienne sits waiting as Sophie stands in 

thought,] 

Sophie 
How shall we word the letter to your father? 
Let me see, let me see. [A moment more of thought 
and she begins dictating.] Father, I am dead. 
[Then suddenly.] No, that's too swift and too 
much speed will ruin the effect. No, that will never 
do, but on the other hand we cannot take too long. 
The blow must be a sudden one. [Then with the 
inspiration of a new idea.] Perhaps it would 
sound more moving in verse. I wonder. 

Vivienne 
Etienne! Etienne! 

Sophie 
My child, you must control yourself. [A 
pause.] Yes — now write as I dictate. Honoured 
Father: The cup of life has been too bitter for my 
quaffing. [And now she is smiling, as softly she 
says to herself] Dorval could do no better. 



120 SOPHIE [Act II 

ViVIENNE 

What, Madame? 

Sophie 
[Swiftly.] 
No, that's not in the letter. What have you writ- 
ten? 

ViVIENNE 

[Reading.] 
Honoured Father: The cup of life [her sobs get 
the better of her and she cannot go on] Madame — 
Madame. 

Sophie 
[After a moment watching her.] 
My child, let some of the tears fall on the letter. 
There's nothing more real than reality. 

ViVIENNE 

[Again controlling herself, takes up the 
quilL] 
Yes, yes. 

Sophie 
I know it isn't easy, dear. It never is easy to 
say farewell except, they say, to a husband. Ah 
yes, where were we? [She looks over Vivienne's 
shoulder, reading.] The cup of life has been too 
bitter for my quaffmg. 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, I — My hand is trembling. 



Act II] SOPHIE 121 

Sophie 
Of course, it should, it should. Now finish with 
[She again dictates.] When you read these lines 
your daughter — [She stops,] You are perhaps 
an only child? 

ViVIENNE 

[Through her tears,] 
Yes. 

Sophie 
Good! That makes it irresistible. How far 
have you written? 

ViVIENNE 

[Reading.] 
When you read these lines your — 

Sophie 
[Again dictating,] 
Your Vivienne, your — [Her voice deeply 
stressing the words,] Your Vivienne, your only — 
underline only — child, will be floating dead in the 
Seine. There, I think that ought to do. 

Vivienne 
[Springing up in terror.] 
Madame, madame, dead in the Seine. 

Sophie 
[Quietly,] 
A moment ago you would have killed yourself 



122 SOPHIE [Act II 

for love. Be calm. It is ever so much more com- 
fortable being dead in a letter than in the river. 
Yes, that will do. In an hour you will be floating 
in the Seine. 

ViVIENNE 

[She has heard of such ends to love.] 
The Seine! 

Sophie 
Yes, would you prefer the Jordan or the Styx. 
That would take longer and be more difficult to man- 
age but still I'm Sophie. 

ViVIENNE 

[For things are moving vertiginously.] 
Madame, it is all so swift. 

Sophie 
So is a century in the race with time. In an 
hour you will be floating in the Seine and half an 
hour after that you will be married to Etienne. 

ViVIENNE 

Married? 

Sophie 

Yes, here, my child. The priest is alread}^ in 
the library. Here, in the house of Sophie Amould, 
here in this holy shrine of pale innocence and 
bright love. [And now she is thinking over ex- 
actly how she'll manage it as she looks at the letter 
she has written.] Dorval- — yes — ^my coach — yes 



Act II] SOPHIE 123 

— yes. My dear, it oughtn't take more than an 
hour before Etienne's here. What's he like? 
Wouldn't it be too shocking if after all I didn't 
like him? 

[She rushes over and pulls the bell-rope.^ 

ViVIENNE 

Like him! Madame, he is the hero of my 
dreams. 

Sophie 

You should be a novelist. You have such a 
new, fresh way of saying things. [And now she 
is bending over Vivienne.] And is your letter 
finished? Good! Good! [Then she dips her 
finger into one of the floiver vases and sprinkles 
the drops of water on the sheet, ^ More tears, 
more tears. Man's heart is but a ship afloat on 
woman's tears. [Vivienne looks up.^ No, dear, 
don't put that into the letter, though I think it 
might do very nicely in Dorval's tragedy. 

[The Second Lackey enter s."] 

Sophie 
See that this lady is kept alone and undisturbed 
in the little blue room beyond my boudoir until I 
let you know. 

[She again pulls the bell-rope. Then to 
Vivienne.] 

Sophie 
You haye supped? 



Il" 



124 SOPHIE [Act 

ViyiENNE 

Madame, I — 

Sophie 
Nonsense. [Then to The Second Lackey.] 
See that supper is served to this young lady. 

[The Lackey is preceding Vivienne to the 
exit on the left.] 

Vivienne 
Madame, can I ever — 

Sophie 
Tut! Tut! Go eat your supper, dear, and 
drink some wine. Remember you must be brave. 
In an hour you're going to your own wedding. 
These marriages, these marriages, if I ever have a 
daughter I shall be the only woman at her wedding 
who won't be married. [Vivienne 15 about to 
speak.] There, dear, later you can thank me. 

Vivienne 
[Standing in the exit left.] 
Madame! 

[She turns to go, but Sophie stops her with 
a sly little smile in her eyes.] 

Sophie 
But, my child [and her voice is as though her 
ear were to a keyhole] , my child, this letter to your 
father, to whom shall we send it and just where? 



Act II] SOPHIE 125 

ViVIENNE 

Madame, I am so happy that I quite forgot. 

[She rushes back to the table and with DoR- 
val's quill addresses the letter, Sophie 
stands watching her. In a moment the ad- 
dress is written and she hands the document to 
Sophie.] 

Sophie 
You have forgotten the sand but no matter. 
[She stands waving the letter in her hand,] 
Madame — [She points to the door left,] Wait 
in the little blue room beyond my boudoir. 

[And the instant Vivienne has made her 
exit Sophie glances at the address, a look of 
fun, or is it triumph in her face,] 

Sophie 

I thought so from the beginning. I have seen 
her at the King's Levee. 

[She turns to see The First Lackey stand- 
ing in the room,] 

Sophie 
I suppose you were listening to everything. 

The First Lackey 
[Very respectfully,] 
Certainly, Madame. 



126 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
[Barely able to suppress her laughter.} 
Well? 

The First Lackey 
I think, Madame, that this is apt to be the most 
diverting of all your little comedies. Oh, what 
a privilege to live in Madame's house. 

Sophie 
Have the gendarmes come? 

The First Lackey 
They are waiting below in the pantry. 

Sophie 
See that each has a bottle of wine. 

The First Lackey 
Madame, I have seen to that already. 

Sophie 
And in a little while have them shown into the 
library. One never knows. 

The First Lackey 
Ah, how true. One never knows. 

Sophie 
[Nervously singing a few notes,] 
La-la. [She puts her fingers to her throat,] 
My voice! God be praised it's still there. 



Act II] SOPHIE 127 

[Then she rushes over to the door of the 
library.] 

Sophie 
[Calling.] 
Dorval! Dorval! 

The First Lackey 
[One of his eyebrows a bit asquint.] 
Madame, the Count is reading his tragedy to the 
Abbe. 

Sophie 
[Nevertheless obdurate.] 
Dorval, Dorval! 

De Lauraguais 
[Entering, his manuscript in hand.] 
Has Gluck come? 

Sophie 
Not yet. 

De Lauraguais 
The Abbe thinks very well of my fifth act. 

Sophie 
You mean his eyes are still open? 

De Lauraguais 
What, dear? 

Sophie 
We must act swiftly. 



128 SOPHIE [Act II 

De Lauraguais 
[Misunderstanding her,li 
Not with my play. It calls for majesty. 

Sophie 
Not with your masterpiece, my Dorval, but with 
facts. Here, take this letter and my coach. [She 
hands him the letter supposed to have been written 
for Marie Antoinette and then, fairly pushing 
him towards the door,] You must ride post haste 
to Rue Sainte Margarette. 

De Lauraguais 
[Looking at his manuscript,] 
But what of my tragedy? 

Sophie 
Later, the rest of your life for tragedy, my poet. 
Now we have a comedy to play. Here, take this 
letter, it's from the Court. 

De Lauraguais 
What? 

Sophie 
A matter of grave moment, Dorval, to— 4o — 
ah well, no matter. Kill my horses if you must 
but in half an hour reach the Barracks Rue Sainte 
Margarette and if you value Sophie's love do not 
come back alone. 



Act II] SOPHIE 129 

De Lauraguais 
[Sadly, looking at his manuscript.] 
But it was just at this moment that my two lovers 
meet alone in the garden. 

Sophie 
Well, let them make all the love they want to in 
my coach. Fly, fly! There's to be a marriage 
and you'll bring back the bridegroom. 

De Lauraguais 
[Mystified.] 
Yes, dear, but I assure you I had more rest in 
prison than since I've been back here with you. 
Only home half an hour and you already bundling 
me off* in your coach to bring back a bridegroom. 
I'm a man of thought, Sophie. I'm patient, very 
patient, but remember it was the last straw that 
broke the camel's back. 

Sophie 
Why, I don't think my Dorval has the faintest 
resemblance to a camel, though I know you love 
them. 

De Lauraguais 
Just the same, dear, remember that last straw. 

Sophie 
I do and perhaps the very straw that broke the 
camel's back may have been the one that showed 



130 SOPHIE [Act II 

the way the wind was blowing. Before evening, 
I shouldn't be surprised, if there would be a little 
tempest here. Do not begrudge your Sophie her 
bit of straw. Go, go, for our sake, Dorval, for 
your Sophie's sake. 

De Lauraguais 

I'll go. [He glances at the letter.] Rue Sainte 
Margarette. But you women have so little fore- 
thought. How will I ever be able to think of lovely 
lines for my tragedy rumbling along in your coach? 
But for your sake, Sophie dear. Rue Sainte Mar- 
garette. 

[And he exits.] 

The First Lackey 
[Very pleasantly, looking after him.] 
Madame, I share with you your adoration of the 
quaint eccentricities of the Count de Lauraguais. 
He is a credit to his King and France. You will 
permit me to drink to the King? 
[And he does so.] 

Sophie 
[Singing a few notes.] 
Tra-la-la-la. Still there, still there. 
[The Second Lackey enters.] 

The Second Lackey 
Madame, Mile. Guimard has arrived for the re- 
hearsal. 



Act II] SOPHIE 131 

Sophie 
Have her wait. I am not yet ready. I will 
ring. 

[The Second Lackey goes out,] 

Sophie 
[To The First Lackey.] 
I have here a letter to be delivered, of the very 
greatest importance. 

[She hands him Vivienne's letter. He 
reads the address and looks up, surprised,] 

Sophie 
You quite understand? 

The First Lackey 
[With a knowing eye.] 
I do. 

Sophie 
Very well, see that it is delivered, but not before 
the hour is up. 

The First Lackey 

Madame is looking a bit ahead? Ah, what a 
privilege to live in your house, Madame, but if 
Madame will permit me I should suggest at least an 
hour and a half before this letter is delivered. It 
will take the Count at least half an hour to reach 
the barracks with the cobble-stones of Paris in the 
dreadful state they are. 



132 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
Yes, you are right. 

The First Lackey 
Madame has something up her sleeve? When 
the ice is thin Madame thinks it just as well to have 
many little rafts about. 

Sophie 
The simile's a little mixed, but somewhere in 
the nest the truth lies hidden. Now show the sol- 
diers into the library. You understand your or- 
ders? 

The First Lackey 

Perfectly, Madame. 

[And with a deep bow he goes out,^ 

Sophie 
[Singing a few notes. \ 
La-la. Still there, still there. 

[She goes over to the door and calls in to 
The Abbe.] 

Sophie 
Monseigneur, Monseigneur! 

The Abbe 

[Entering.l 
Monseigneur? Madame, if I stay long enough 
in your house I may be Pope. 



Act II] SOPHIE 133 

Sophie 
Who knows? Why not? I am Sophie Arnould, 
but at least you will stay long enough to indulge in 
one of the holy sacraments. You will perform a 
marriage. 

The Abbe 

[In amazement,] 
A marriage? 

Sophie 

Yes, at midnight. A marriage. The most un- 
imaginative thing that has ever happened in So- 
phie's house, but circumstances alter faiths. 
[The Third Lackey enters.] 

The Third Lackey 
Madame, the Chevalier Gluck and Mme. Levas- 
seur have arrived for the rehearsal. 

Sophie 
I am not ready yet. I will ring. 
[The Lackey exits,] 

Sophie 
[Again singing a phrase,] 
Am I in voice? 

The Abbe 

Divine. But do you know that several gen- 
darmes have just come into the library? 



134 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
Yes. Have I ever sung better? 

The Abbe 
It is the voice of the angels. 

Sophie 
Were you surprised to see the soldiers? 

The Abbe 

[His hands lifted J\ 
Madame, in your house I am prepared to see the 
devil himself come down the chimney. 

Sophie 
In case he does I have you here as host, your Rev- 
erence. Tell the gendarmes to be nice and quiet 
during the singing. [And then, and indeed she 
wants to know.] They are good, strong fellows? 

The Abbe 
They are, my child. 

[And he exits into the library.] 

Sophie 
[Giving the bell-rope a violent pull.] 
Now I am ready for the devil, for the Austrian 
Ambassador and the celestial strains of Gluck. 

[She arranges the head-dress in her hair. 
She goes over to the harpsichord and is lean- 



Act II] SOPHIE 135 

ing against it in languid beauty when Gluck, 
Rosalie Levasseur and Guimard enter.] 

Sophie 
[Bowing.] 
Chevalier, ladies, welcome. 
[They all bow.] 

Gluck 
[An irritable genius and a pompous gen- 
tleman as he leans over to kiss her hand.] 
Madame, I hope your voice is not as veiled as 
your hair. What is that, may I ask? 
[And he points to the crescent.] 

Sophie 
The head-dress of Diana. 

Gluck 
And what have head-dresses to do with Gluck? 

Sophie 
Why, I don't know how they affect you. I'll ask 
Rosalie. 

Rosalie 
Sophie, Sophie. 

\_She attempts to hide her embarrassment be- 
hind a laugh.] 

Sophie 
Maestro, the moon is the symbol of Diana. Is 
not your heroine a priestess of Diana? 



136 SOPHIE [Act II 

Gluck 
Madame, do you think the simple grandeur of 
my music calls for all this costuming? 

Sophie 
Perhaps not. When genius demands it I can 
move the moon. 

Gluck 
You French have a way of saying nothing as 
though it were something. 

Sophie 
Do, all of you sit down whilst I arrange the 
planets. 

[She takes the veils and the moon from 
her hair. J 

Rosalie 
My Sophie is in a playful mood tonight. 

Sophie 
Why not? My voice was never better. [Then 
to GuiMARD.] Marie, where's Abigalette? 

GuiMARD 

Signor Tortolini has called her for rehearsal. 
[Gluck has taken his seat at the harpsi- 
chord and begins turning over the sheets of 
the score of Iphigenia in AulisJ\ 



Act II] SOPHIE 137 

Sophie 

[To GUIMARD.] 

Then my poor little friend will not hear me sing 
tonight? 

Rosalie 
But tomorrow evening, dear. 

Sophie 
No, Rosalie. When Sophie sings there is no one 
allowed standing in the wings. 

Gluck 
Madame, I am ready. 

Sophie 
[Still to Rosalie.] 
Neither the King nor the ladies of the ballet. 

Gluck 

Madame, if you think that Gluck has come here 
to talk about the ladies of the ballet you are very 
mistaken. But I understand you Parisiennes. 
What is an opera to you but a period in which you 
are bored to death until the dancers appear? 
Should not music be something more divine than 
an excuse for fifty ballerinas standing on their 
toes and grinning? 

Sophie 
What would you have them do. Maestro, when 
they are so unhappy? 



138 SOPHIE [Act II 

Gluck 
I have not come here from Vienna to be told why 
the ballet is unhappy. 

Sophie 
You know, Maestro, it is because they must 
dance and cannot sing your lovely melodies. 

Gluck 
So, so, you French have a mixed up way of 
saying things, but sometimes you are right. [He 
plays a few chords on the harpsichord.^ And 
your voice, Madame? 

Sophie 
Waiting to do justice to your art. 

Gluck 
My art, my sacred art. What does Paris know 
of my art? I bring you my genius, my beautiful 
legato melodies, my music which is divinely sad, 
my pathos which is divinely musical, my phrases 
which do not fill the air with meaningless nothing- 
ness, but — 

Sophie 
[Clearing her throat.J 
Ahem, ahem. 

Gluck 
[Continuing,^ 
My music, which is not the reason for a prima 



Act II] SOPHIE 139 

donna's pricking the heights of heaven with florid 
trivialities but which in its nobility shall tell of the 
soul and its passions and its pains. Madame, what 
does Paris know of this? Nothing! But after to- 
morrow evening Paris will know what beauty is. 
The flood gates will be let loose. On my Iphi- 
genia will be founded a new school of opera, an 
opera [and now he speaks the tremendous climax] 
an opera which some day, perhaps, will need no 
ballet. 

Rosalie 
[Starting up in wonder.] 
What, no ballet? 

Gluck 
Yes, Madame, sit down, no ballet. Tomorrow 
night I will begin the future. Tomorrow night 
Paris will hear the grandeur that is Gluck. 

Sophie 
Why, you're not doing yourself justice. 
[He again sounds a few chords.] 

Sophie 
I am ready. Where shall we begin. [She 
leans over his shoulder.] Here. [She reads the 
words from the score.] "The vows with which 
these people honour me." 

[Gluck starts playing the accompaniment 
to the melody, but suddenly he stops.] 



140 SOPHIE [Act II 

Gluck 
What's this? Your instrument is a tone off 
pitch. You have studied this aria in C. Well, we 
shall sing it in D. I will transpose. Gluck must 
not be off pitch though everything else in Paris is. 
Are you ready, Madame? It is very warm, you 
will excuse me. I may take off my coat? 
[He gets up.] 

Rosalie 
[Rushing forward,] 
Give it to me, Maestro. 

Sophie 
[Aside to Rosalie.] 
Why don't you take off his shoes for him? 

Gluck 
My shoes? Afterwards perhaps, Madame, but 
as yet I am not so warm. 

[He sits down again at the instrument and 
strikes a chord.] 

Sophie 

[With a majestic boWr] 
Behold the virginal priestess of Diana. 

Rosalie 

Ah, what an actress our Sophie is! But I too 
have had my triumphs. The other evening in 



Act II] SOPHIE 141 

Rousseau's opera when I sang the part of the lad 
Colin, half of the audience thought I was a boy. 

Sophie 
[Oh, so cooingly.l 
And the other half knew you weren't, dear. 

Rosalie 
What? 

Sophie 
[To Gluck.] 
I am waiting. Maestro. 

Gluck 
Silenzio! Madame, — I will play the opening 
phrase. Now, Madame. 

[He plays the first few measures of the 
aria, Sophie with parted lips is about to 
sing when at this moment there is a knock at 
the door,] 

Sophie 
[Involuntarily,] 
Not yet! Not yet! 

Gluck 
What is it? 

Sophie 
[Her voice is a little unsteady,] 
Perhaps His Excellency. 



142 SOPHIE [Act II 

[The knock is repeated. It is from the 
door of the library.} 

Sophie 
I thought it was too soon for him. It is His Rev- 
erence. Come in. 

[The Abbe enters.] 

Gluck 

Madame, are we to rehearse or are you giving a 
reception? 

The Abbe 
With your permission, Maestro? 

Gluck 
Yes, with my permission. 

The Abbe 

It is impossible to obtain tickets for the premiere 
tomorrow evening. Maestro. 

Gluck 
It has been impossible to obtain tickets for four 
weeks back. 

The Abbe 

Therefore, Maestro, I should be deeply grateful 
if you would grant me the privilege this evening 
of hearing Madame Amould sing. 

Gluck 
Of hearing Madame Arnould sing. On all sides 



Act II] SOPHIE 143 

I hear nothing but Madame Arnould, Madame Am- 
ould. Is it no privilege, I ask you, to also hear the 
music which is Gluck's? What is the divinest 
singing when there is nothing to sing? Padre, my 
opera is not like your Te Deums, where the less 
heard the holier it sounds. What is a voice even 
so divine — sometimes — as Madame Arnould's 
without sentiments to give it wings? Bah! 
Madame, is there some one else who will come in to 
interrupt us? It is very warm, you will permit 
me to take off my vest? [He attempts to.^ What, 
what, this verdammte buckle is too tight. 

Sophie 
Rosalie, dear, the buckle is too tight. Come, 
dear, practice makes perfect. Come, come. 

Rosalie 
I will help you. Maestro. 

The Abbe 

[Quickly aside to Sophie a^ Rosalie is 
busy with Cluck.] 
Madame, the gendarmes beseech you to allow 
them to come in and hear you sing. 

Sophie 
The darlings, leave the door a little open. I 
adore soldiers. 

[By now the vest is off and Cluck is back 
at the harpsichord.^ 



144 SOPHIE [Act II 

Gluck 
Now, Madame, we will begin. You will follow 
me. 

Sophie 
What? [Then petulantly,} I will do no such 
thing. You will follow me. 

Gluck 
[Getting up in anger, '\ 
What is that? 

Sophie 
Maestro, it is too late to begin discussing that. 
I told you at the first rehearsal and last night at 
the last that if I consented to create your Iphigenia 
for you that the interpretation must be left to me. 
If I am to interpret it I must be followed. You 
are right, Maestro, a great singer is nothing with- 
out something great to sing, but it is also true that 
the divinest music is still diviner when divinely 
sung. 

Gluck 

Madame, you will excuse me. It is very warm. 

[He takes off his wig.} See [pointing to the 

score} , I have marked each phrase, each swell, each 

pianissimo; what more is there needed, Madame? 

Sophie 
The moment's inspiration and my art. 



Act II] SOPHIE 145 

Gluck 
[Mopping his brow. J 
But it is thus that Iphigenia is to be sung and 
only thus. 

Sophie 

[Tenderly, patting him on the cheek.] 
Papa Gluck may have created his Iphigenia, but 
unless I know my mamma, — and I think I do, — he 
did not create his Sophie. 

Gluck 
[In a rage.] 
Madame, I have heard enough. 

Sophie 
[With the gentlest of composure.] 
Now I see why you are the greatest composer 
that ever lived. 

Gluck 
[Slightly mollified in spite of his heat.] 
What is that? 

Sophie 
You have so much temper to turn into beauty. 

Rosalie 
Why, what a charming idea. 

Sophie 
Remember it, dear. Often a memory serves the 
place of wit. [Then to Gluck.] Come, Maestro. 



146 SOPHIE [Act II 

[Her arm is about him as she leads him back to 
the harpsichord.] Don't worry, Maestro, we will 
never be more than a measure apart. Your So- 
phie is so ingenious. 

Gluck 
[Glaring at her,] 
Madame, Madame Levasseur has also studied the 
role of Iphigenia. Perhaps there still is time. 

Rosalie 
[Eagerly.] 

Yes, yes. 

Sophie 

But there isn't, Rosalie. The premiere will be 
tomorrow night and Sophie will sing. There, 
there, genius is so sensitive, there. [She is patting 
Gluck's very bald head.] Maestro, your head is 
as smooth as your recitative. [She has forced 
him to sit down.] Now your Sophie will sing as 
sweetly as a seraphim who has not yet learnt the 
ennui of paradise. 

[And she is waiting ndxt to the harpsichord 
with a celestial light in her eyes.] 

Gluck 

[Again sounding the opening phrase.] 
For the last time, silenzio. Madame is ready, 
yes? 

[They are all leaning forward listening. 



Act II] SOPHIE 147 

Gluck plays a few measures, when suddenly 
the door bursts open and Mlle. Heinel, in 
her ballet costume and all aflutter like an 
aspen in a morning wind, comes rushing i/i.] 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Breathlessly, \ 
Darling, I couldn't live and not hear you sing 
tonight. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to come. 
At the last moment the rehearsal was called. I 
went to it but I promised Signor Tortolini if he 
would let me off for just half an hour that I would 
give him something very, very unique. 

Sophie 
I hope so, dear. I hope so. 

Mlle. Heinel 

Then I'm not too late. Oh, I'm so excited. I 
drove through Paris as though that terrible man 
Attila were at my heels. 

Rosalie 

[Curiously leaning forward S\ 
Attila, and who is he? 

Sophie 
The only man in Paris you do not know. 

Mlle. Heinel 

[Embracing Sophie.] 
Darling, I'm so glad I'm in time. [Then lightly 



148 SOPHIE [Act II 

over Sophie's shoulder to Gluck.] Good evening, 
Maestro. 

Gluck 
[His irritation at the sizzling point J\ 
Madame Arnould, I came here this evening to 
rehearse and not to waste half an hour whilst my 
chaste Iphigenia embraces a verrilckte ballerina, 

Rosalie 
You are right. Chevalier, this is too much. 

Sophie 
[Pulling the bell-rope.] 
Can I help it if Paris is so eager to hear me sing, 
but that is an emotion, Rosalie, which you cannot 
understand. [Then to Gluck.] NoWj Maestro, 
you mustn't interrupt me again. 

[The Second Lackey enters,] 

Sophie 
[To The Lackey.] 
See that no one is admitted except His Excel- 
lency. [The Lackey exits, Sophie has gone 
over to The Abbe and her voice is despondent,] 
His Excellency. 

The Abbe 

[Low, to Sophie.] 
Perhaps there is no cause for alarm. Matters 
of State may have detained him. 



Act II] SOPHIE 149 

Sophie 
[Hopelessly, though hoping,^ 
Perhaps, perhaps. 

Gluck 
What is this, Madame? Am I to be kept waiting 
whilst you indulge in your confessions? 

Sophie 
[Like a good child enjoying the nice new- 
ness of a naughty moment.^ 
No, Chevalier, you would have to wait for seven 
lives whilst I absolve the sins of one. 
[She begins to laugh J\ 

Gluck 
[Flinging the score on to the floor. ^ 
We will not sing tonight! 

Sophie 
[Putting the hook hack on the rack.l^ 
My composer, it was you who insisted on re- 
hearsing and not me. If you do not wish to, well — 

Gluck 
[Again mopping his hrow and sitting down 
distracted.^ 
I have suffered the patience of a Spartan. 

Sophie 
[With a smile. ^ 
To create the tragedy of Troy, and now your Gre- 
cian is waiting. The triumvirate's complete. 



150 SOPHIE. [Act II 

Gluck 

[His fingers on the keys as in the painting 
of DuplessisS[ 
Tomorrow for the first time Paris shall hear my 
music. For the first time France will know the dif- 
ference between real inspiration and these ridicu- 
lous rules of counter-point. What do I know of 
rules but to break them? Am I not Gluck? 

Sophie 

[Banishing all doubt, ^ 
I think you are. Maestro. 

Gluck 

So, let us have no more chatter. Let us have 
music, — music which tells and teaches all though it 
speak no word nor sentence. Let us have music, 
the divine music of Gluck which is not written for 
the ear but for the heart. Madame is ready? 

[He again plays the first nine measures of 
the aria in Act /, then he lifts his hand and is 
about to begin again. Sophie has taken a 
deep breath. The silence hangs upon the 
beauty about to be born, but alas, at this sec- 
ond a sound of voices is heard in the hall and 
the next moment His Excellency, the Austrian 
Ambassador, is shown in by two of the Lack- 
eys, D'Argenteau 1*5 a typical diplomat of 
the old school whose breath of life — that is, 



Act II] SOPHIE 151 

all that is left to him — lingers along in puffs 
of stiff formality. Everybody on the stage 
with deep ceremony bows very low to him and 
Gluck has risen and is standing at the harp- 
sichord.^ 

Sophie 
[Behind her hand to Rosalie.] 
Don't bow so low. You may never be able to 
get up. 

D'Argenteau 

[With great dignity, acknowledging the sal- 
utations.^ 
Ladies, Christophe, Abbe de Voisenon. The re- 
hearsal has already begun? 

Sophie 
[Smiling at Gluck.] 
Yes, several times, but we can begin again. 

D'Argenteau 
Good! Then I am still in time. It is an hon- 
our. Chevalier, this happy conclusion and this glo- 
rious combination. [He begins coughing faintly. 1^ 
Amould and Gluck. Gluck and Amould. Two 
perfect halves of a still more perfect whole. An 
alliance of loyalty and art. France and Austria. 
Austria and France. Two complements complet- 
ing beauty. Composer and singer. Creator and 
musician. Austria and France. 



152 SOPHIE. [Act II 

Sophie 
[Echoing his tone.^ 
Composer and creator, singer and musician, Aus- 
tria and France. I hope your Excellency doesn't 
get dizzy from this perfect balancing. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame is in a playful mood tonight. 

Sophie 
Never more so. Your Excellency. 

D'Argenteau 
[Bending over to kiss her hand.l^ 
I suppose as usual tonight your voice is the rival 
of the nightingale's? 

Sophie 
I do not yet know, both I and the nightingale 
find it very difficult to sing with some one holding 
our hand. 

D'Argenteau 
[With a wheezy little laugh,'\ 
Good, good, I am a diplomat. A hint is suffi- 
cient. 

[He again kisses her handJ] 

Sophie 
That is the second time you have kissed my fin- 
gers. 

D'Argenteau 
It is charming to repeat what is charming. 



Act II] SOPHIE 153 

Sophie 
But I assure you it is quite unusual twice in the 
same evening. 

D'Argenteau 
[Insinuatingly, ] 
Madame has perhaps not received my letter? 

Sophie 
[A little startled.] 
Yes. 

D'Argenteau 

These then are tiny hints and signs. [He is 
oggling her slyly.] Signals and suggestions. I 
hope it is all as clear and delightful to Madame as 
it is to me? 

[He bows.] 

Sophie 
Quite. 

[She bows in return.] 

Gluck 
Begging your Excellency's pardon, but whilst 
you and Madame are so busy bowing to each other 
my music is freezing to death on the harpsichord. 

D'Argenteau 
[With another brave little giggle.] 
Excellent. Excellent. Let me no longer de- 
tain Iphigenia from her devotions. Madame, do 



154 SOPHIE [Act II 

you know that the Dauphin and Dauphiness and all 
the Court will be present at the premiere tomorrow 
night? 

Sophie 
[Carelessly,] 
Of course, why not? 

Rosalie 
[And ifs her moment.] 
All, your Excellency? But they say that the 
King— 

D'Argenteau 

Ah yes, you are right. His Majesty and 
Madame Du Barry who has a composer of her 
own and not an Austrian, begging your pardon, 
Christophe — Madame Du Barry and His Majesty 
will absent themselves. 

Sophie 
Seeking felicity the while. Dear Du Barry, how 
fond she is of Shakespeare. So, they refuse to 
come tomorrow night? [And for a moment her 
voice is angry, then with purling sweetness.] Ah 
well, what matter? We will content ourselves 
with the presence of the proper heirs to the throne 
rather than with that of one, whose heirs if she 
ever have any will be improper. 

Rosalie 
[Aghast.] 
For God's sake, Sophie, what are you saying? 



Act II] SOPHIE 155 

Do you dare speak that way of His Majesty and — 
[She looks about her, afraid to go on,] 

Sophie 

[Lightly.] 
Darling, the carroty Du Barry knows that Sophie 
doesn't love her. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, softly, softly. Amongst friends this 
sort of chatter may be pleasant but amongst cour- 
tiers, well — 

Sophie 

I know that the ears of Saint-Florentin are al- 
w^ays listening, but this evening, Excellency, we are 
friends — only friends. 

[And behind the general appellation is the 
particular message directed at him.] 

D'Argenteau 

[Looking at her through his monocle.] 
Only friends? 

[Then very formally he again attempts to 
kiss her hand, but she avoids the compliment 
and goes over to the harpsichord.] 

Gluck 
Well, Madame, for the tenth time, are you ready? 



156 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
[Putting her little handkerchief on the harp- 
sichord beside her.^ 
Why, Maestro, I've been waiting for you. 

D'Argenteau 
[Taking a chair nearer to Sophie.] 
With your permission. Chevalier, from here I can 
hear and see the better. 

[He leans over and takes Sophie's little 
handkerchief. She is watching himJ\ 

Gluck 

Prompto! Silenzio! Piano! Piano! 

[Sophie stands waiting. Gluck plays a 
few bars and whilst he does so D'Argenteau 
with a ridiculous look at Sophie is pressing 
her handkerchief to his lips with elaborate 
eloquence,"} 

Gluck 
[Very low, all the while playing the mu- 
sic] 
Piano, — now, — now. 

Sophie 

[With a sudden little scream.] 
I cannot sing! 

Gluck 
What? 



Act II] SOPHIE 157 

Sophie 
[With an hysterical little cough.] 
My handkerchief, my handkerchief! 

D'Argenteau 
[Handing it to her with a bow,] 
Madame, you are distressed? 

Sophie 
Yes, Your Excellency. [She is tearing the hand- 
kerchief to bits.] It is my temperament, my tem- 
perament. [More little screams.] Oh, oh, oh! 
[GuiMARD and Mlle. Heinel rush over to 
her.] 

GUIMARD 

What is it, Sophie? 

Mlle. Heinel 

Darling, darling! 

Sophie 
[The back of her hand to her brow.] 
I am a little nervous, that is all. [Then to 
D'Argenteau.] Your presence. Excellency. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, I am moved that my presence moves 
you. 

Sophie 
It does, it does. Begin again. Maestro. [And 



158 SOPHIE [Act II 

now both hands are tremblingly lifted to her face,^ 
I am afraid that I am a little tired. 

Gluck 
[Sternly J\ 
I know that I am, Madame. 

Rosalie 
Let her rest a moment, Chevalier. We women 
are so fragile. 

Sophie 
That's it, fragile. [Then each time, weaker,^ 
Fragile, fragile. [She attempts to sing a few 
notes,] La, la, la. [Then with horror,] My 
voice, my voice. Maestro, if you tire me tonight 
perhaps I will not be able to sing tomorrow. 

Rosalie 
[Almost gaily.] 
What? 

Sophie 
[Weakly.] 
Only perhaps. Only perhaps. 

Mlle. Heinel 

[Commiseratingly.] 
Sophie, darling. 

Sophie 
[With tears on the edge of her lashes.] 
What will become of my beautiful legato style? 



Act II] SOPHIE 159 

Oh, how ruthless art is. We work and work and 
now, now I must rest, I must sleep, Your Excel- 
lency, twelve hours, thirteen hours, fifteen hours. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, if it is as bad as that I am sure the 
Chevalier — 

Gluck 
[Stepping forward.] 
Excellency. 

Sophie 
[Weakly.] 
No, I will sing, but if I do, tomorrow your op- 
era will not sound like Iphigenia in Aulis but 
Iphigenia in hell. 

Mlle. Heinel 

Sophie, Sophie! 

Sophie 
I will martyrize my soul. [Then wearily.] 
Begin, begin. 

Mlle. Heinel 
If she sings now she may burst a vessel in her 
throat. 

Rosalie 
Yes. 

Sophie 
[With a look at Rosalie of the most abject 
tragedy, her finger on her throat.] 
Something is straining here. 



160 SOPHIE [Act II 

Mlle. Heinel 
Quick, a doctor. Open the window. 

GUIMARD 

A glass of brandy. 

D'Argenteau 
[With deep commiseration,^ 
Madame, I am sure the Chevalier will under- 
stand. Ladies, I know you will appreciate that un- 
der the circumstances it might be better if Madame 
and I were left alone. 

Sophie 
[As though being dragged to an altar,] 
Alone? Oh, oh. 

D'Argenteau 
[To the others.] 
Your presence, the excitement, the strain of the 
premiere tomorrow, of course, all this — if Madame 
and I were left alone. 

Sophie 
[She is weeping now,] 
Some one, all of you leave me alone. My nerves 
are like so many little knives turned in against me. 

Gluck 
Madame, you will be better tomorrow? 



Act II] SOPHIE 161 

Sophie 
Yes, better tomorrow. 

Mlle. Heinel 
Poor, suffering genius. 

Sophie 
[She has now sunk into her chair and is 
leaning back, her hand upon her bosom.] 

Oh, oh! 

[Rosalie rushes forward with an irresist- 
ible burst of affection.] 

Rosalie 
If my Sophie is so ill her Rosalie will stay all 
night with her. 

Sophie 
[With a sudden involuntary cry of clarity.] 
No, no, not the three of you. 

GuiMARD 
What? 

Mlle. Heinel 
My darling, your mind is wandering. 

Sophie 
Yes, wandering. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, you will pardon me a moment. Do 
not worry, I will come back. 



162 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
[As though she were in a half remembered 
swoon,^ 

Yes, yes. 

D'Argenteau 
[Aside to Gluck.] 
Chevalier, I am so deeply moved that this should 
happen in my house, but women — one never knows. 
I have never seen Madame like this before. 

Gluck 
Excellency, I understand. [Taking up his wig 
and his vest and his coat.^ But do you think she 
will be able to sing tomorrow? 

Rosalie 
[Hope fully, J 
This is perhaps an attack of that new disease of 
inoculation that the Count de Lauraguais has im- 
ported from England and for which he was sent to 
prison. 

Sophie 

[Vaguely.] 
Prison, inoculation, De Lauraguais? — 

Gluck 
[Deeply concerned now,] 
But if she cannot sing tomorrow. 



Act II] SOPHIE 163 

Rosalie 
[Oh, so anxiously.] 
Yes — ^yes — 

Sophie 

[Faintly.^ 
I will sing tomorrow. I will sing. 

[Rosalie, The Abbe, Gluck and D'Ar- 
GENTEAU are now crowding solicitously about 
her,] 

GuiMARD 
Look, she is paler. 

Mlle. Heinel 
[Sobbing.] 
How brave, how magnificent our Sophie is. 

Sophie 
[Sobbing.] 
Oh, oh. 

Gluck 
In the morning I will send a messenger. 

D'Argenteau 
[Very formally to Gluck.] 
Chevalier, I will see you to your coach. [Then 
to Sophie with pleasant reassurance.] Madame, 
I will be back, do not disturb yourself. I will be 
back. 



164 SOPHIE [Act II 

Gluck 
[Deeply solicitous, to Sophie.] 
Madame, I hope you will rest well tonight. 

Sophie 
[And now the sound is more of an echo than 
a voice. ^^ 
Rest well tonight? 

Gluck 
[At the door.'] 
Madame Levasseur. 

Rosalie 
[Low to The Abbe. Hardly able to con- 
ceal her delight.] 
She is indeed very weak. I will come back later 
to see what I can do for her. 

Gluck 

[At the door to Rosalie.] 
Madame, I am waiting. 

Rosalie 

[Aside, with a reassuring nod to The 
Abbe.] 
It will be all right. [Then whispering to him.] 
I'll surely come back. 

[And she makes her exit with Mlles. 
Heinel and Guimard.] 



Act II] SOPHIE 165 

Gluck 
[Very low at the door to D'Argenteau.] 
But, Your Excellency, if she cannot sing. 

Sophie 

[Faintly, as though from behind the throne 

of God.] 

I will sing. I will sing tomorrow. I will sing. 

[She is now lying back weakly and as 

Gluck and D'Argenteau make their exit 

The Abbe, coming forward, bends over her.] 

The Abbe 

[His hands clasped sympathetically in front 
of him.] 
Are you stronger, my child? 

Sophie 
[Weakly.] 
Have they all gone? 

The Abbe 
Yes. 

Sophie 
[With a little more strength.] 
Close the door. 

[The Abbe does so, Sophie watching him.] 

The Abbe 

[Coming back, with deep concern.] 

My daughter, do you often get these seizures? 



166 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
[Suddenly sitting up in radiant health,^ 
Of course. Your Reverence, whenever necessary. 

The Abbe 
What? 

Sophie 
Quick, go into the library. See that my gen- 
darmes are given all the wine they want to drink. 
I wish them mellow when it comes to deeds and 
justice. 

The Abbe 
[At the door of the library, quietly shaking 
his head,^ 
And who was it called woman the weaker vessel? 

Sophie 
Eve in celebration of the fall of man. 

[The Abbe, his hands behind his back, goes 
into the library and Sophie is lying there 
spent and weary when D'Argenteau enters,^ 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, you are more composed? 

Sophie 
Thanks, Your Excellency. 

D'Argenteau 
Your indisposition moves me. 



Act II] SOPHIE 167 

Sophie 
It is passing. I am better. 

D'Argenteau 
[Elaborately.] 
Yes, the roses have come back to your cheeks, 
the dawn of health again spreads its glow across the 
white temples of your brow. 

Sophie 

For heaven's sake don't be so poetic. I'm still 
very weak. 

[He sits down near her. She moves to the 
far end of the couch,] 

D'Argenteau 
Chevalier Gluck seemed very disturbed that you 
could not rehearse. 

Sophie 
He might have been more so if I had. I do 
not think I am in the mood for singing. I am still 
very tired, not to say weak. 

D'Argenteau 
A glass of wine? 

[Sophie makes a gesture of refusal,] 

D'Argenteau 
Just a sip? 

Sophie 

No. 



168 SOPHIE: [Act II 

D'Argenteau 
As you will. 

[There is an embarrassed pause. Sophie 
sits watching him.] 



Sophie 
[Weakly singing a phrase.] 
' La, la. Yes, God be praised, it's coming back. 
Slowly but surely. 

[D'Argenteau looks at her, coughs a little 
and turns away.] 

Sophie 
Of what are you thinking? 

D'Argenteau 
Madame — 

' Sophie 
I know. 

[He starts.] 

D'Argenteau 
Madame. 

[There is a pause.] 

Sophie 
Well? 

D'Argenteau 
What did you think I was thinking of? 



Act II] SOPHIE 169 

Sophie 
Perhaps of the Japanese conception of Nirvana. 
Why not, why not, I ask you. 

D'Argenteau 
[Moving his chair a little nearer.] 
Madame. 

[He stops,] 

Sophie 
Don't say anything to startle me. You see what 
I've just come out of. [Her breath is coming very 
quickly,] My heart! I am not yet what you 
would call thoroughly controlled. 

D'Argenteau 
[Taking a book from the table.] 
Madame, shall I read you a few pages from 
Rousseau s Confession? 

Sophie 
I do not like confessions. They are never true. 
] shall never write my own. 

D'Argenteau 
No, Madame? 

Sophie 
Confessions are apt to be either self-pity or self- 
praise. Both are prejudices. I think I will go to 
bed. 



170 SOPHIE [Act II 

D'Argenteau 
[Embarrmsment overcoming his for- 
mality,^ 
Madame, I — 

Sophie 
What's the matter? 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, is going to bed? 

Sophie 
Of course. Why not? People have been going 
to bed since the beginning of time. Even Mother 
Eve went to bed though I suppose she didn't have 
to go any place since she was alone in the world. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, perhaps you are right — but — 

Sophie 
Your Excellency has something on his mind? 
Matters of state beyond a woman's comprehension? 
[She sings a phrase.^ Yes, it is coming back. 
Good, good. 

D'Argenteau 
Your voice was never more beautiful. 

Sophie 
I hope you're a judge. I think it is a little 
ragged. What I need is rest, plenty of rest. So 
once again, I bid Your Excellency good-night. 



Act II] SOPHIE 171 

D'Argenteau 
[Getting up,] 
Madame — 

Sophie 
[With a sweet little smile.] 
Yes, Your Excellency? 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, will you favour me by sitting down? 

Sophie 
[Sitting,] 
Why not? 

D'Argenteau 
[Delicately clearing his throat,] 
Madame, you received my letter? 

Sophie 
Yes. 

D'Argenteau 

WeU? 

[Sophie gets up, goes to the harpsichord 
and takes up the score of Iphigenia.] 

D'Argenteau 

[Watching her, J 
Well, Madame? 

Sophie 
Yes. 



172 SOPHIE [Act II 

D'Argenteau 
Sophie. 

[He gets up as quickly as he can and rushes 
towards her.^ 

Sophie 
[Pointing to the score,^ 
Yes, here is something that I hadn't seen before. 

D'Argenteau 
[A little nearer.^ 
Sophie. 

Sophie 
[Pointing to the music] 
Here without preparation Gluck has modulated 
into the minor. 

D'Argenteau 
Yes, Madame, but — 

Sophie 

And here the accompaniment takes up the 
melody. 

D'Argenteau 

Sophie, love always plays the accompaniment to 
life. [Very gallantly he takes her hand,] 
Sophie. 

Sophie 
[Very gently drawing it away,] 
Your Excellency, which do you prefer, harmony 
or counterpoint? 



Act II] SOPHIE 173 

D'Argenteau 
These are mysteries which do not concern a 
statesman. 

Sophie 
Why not? Can there not be the melody of jus- 
tice and the harmony of states? 

D'Argenteau 
Madame's wit is not too quick tonight. If you 
think that my letter suggested that I desired you to 
give me music lessons you are greatly mistaken. 
[He again attempts to take her hand.^ 

Sophie 
[Drawing hers away.] 
It is never too late to begin. Listen, this is a 
major chord. [She strikes one.] Isn't that sim- 
ple, noble and direct? 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, your chord is more direct than you. 

Sophie 
Why, whatever do you mean? 

D'Argenteau 
Every time I speak of the letter that I sent you 
you speak of something else. Madame, I am a 
diplomat. 

Sophie 
Always, Your Excellency? 



174 SOPHIE [Act II 

D'Argenteau 
The evening is getting late and whilst my mind 
eagerly drinks in your learned discourse on the 
musical arts may I delicately suggest to you that my 
heart — my heart is trembling on the verge of other 
matters. You did receive my letter? 

Sophie 
Yes. 

D'Argenteau 
And? 

Sophie 
[Reticently, bashfully, — poor Sophie.] 
Sir, I am a woman. Will you not allow me a 
few days to weigh the intention of your words? 

D'Argenteau 
With all my heart, Madame. 

Sophie 
[Glancing toward the library with a deep 
sigh of relief.^ 
Then they and this [her hand is lifted^ will not 
be needed. 

D'Argenteau 
They, Madame? This, Madame? 

Sophie 
My mind still wanders. [She gets up from the 
harpsichord.] Excellency, I again bid you good- 
night. 



Act II] SOPHIE 175 

D'Argenteau 
A moment, Madame. 

Sophie 
Ah, but I am weary. We can discuss your gal- 
lant offer, shall we say, next week? 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, it is beyond my power to wait until 
next week. 

Sophie 
Sir! 

D'Argenteau 
[With an elaborate bow.] 
It must be this evening. 

Sophie 
This evening? 

D'Argenteau 
Yes, I have had orders from Vienna. 

Sophie 
And what have orders from Vienna to do with 
me? 

D'Argenteau 
You have become an affair of State. 

Sophie 
What? 

D'Argenteau 
You will understand it better when I explain to 
you that my Empress — ^God spare her long to us — 



176 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
[Interrupting him.] 
Never mind, long or short what difference does 
it make? 

D'Argenteau 
[Very formally continuing,^ 
That her Imperial Highness, Marie Therese, has 
a sense of rectitude unparalleled in the history of 
the world. 

Sophie 
In the name of the Fiend, why are you going so 
far afield? 

D'Argenteau 
In order to bring the truth to cover. Detailed 
news has reached her Imperial Highness as to the 
exact nature of our relationship. Today I have 
received orders from Her Serene Highness that 
without further delay, and in order that Her Serene 
Highness' sense of truth and rectitude be satisfied, 
that our relationship, Madame, — yours and mine — 
shall no longer seem one thing and be another, 
but — 

Sophie 
Well? 

D'Argenteau 
That it shall immediately become such as every 
honest and self-respecting Parisienne will accept 
and understand. 



Act II] SOPHIE 177 

Sophie 
Good God! 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, need I reiterate that the credit as well 
as the honour of my Empress and my Nation are 
at stake? 

Sophie 
What of my honour, mine? Mine? 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, your reputation, I assure you, can be 
nothing but advanced by the consummation. I 
suppose I need say no more? 

Sophie 
No, you need say no more, but do you suppose 
that Sophie Arnould will suffer this indignity? 

D'Argenteau 
Indignity? May I suggest to you, Madame, 
that Sophie Arnould has already suffered the in- 
dignity of accepting some eight hundred thousand 
francs? 

Sophie 
A mere pittance for the invaluable prestige of my 
name. If at first you had even hinted to me the 
possibility of this basely immoral conclusion, I 
should have flung your disgusting proposal and 
your revolting money in your face. 



178 SOPHIE [Act II 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, I am a loyal servant and need I reas- 
sure you that you are not in the least distasteful 
to me? 

Sophie 
[And her tone would freeze the heat of 
Hell] 
Indeed? 

D'Argenteau 
These orders are from the throne. 

Sophie 
From the throne? What of it? Am I not 
sovereign of the lyric stage? What do I care for 
the orders of your horrid old Empress of Austria? 

D'Argenteau 

[With fragrant sarcasm.^ 
Then I am to presume that your assuming the 
position of Mistress in my house was purely a dis- 
interested act? 

Sophie 
[With illuminating truth,^ 
Not at all, Your Excellency, can't you see fur- 
ther than your quickly failing eyesight lets you? 
I came to live here at the Embassy because the 
glamour of my name and presence was the one way 
to stay the tottering credit of your discredited ac- 
counts. 



Act II] SOPHIE 179 

D'Argenteau 
And in return? 

Sophie 
In return, Your Excellency, I was assured the 
role of Iphigenia in the divine opera of Maestro 
Gluck. Tomorrow night I sing the role, the 
kronen is itself again and we are — so to phrase it, 
— quits. 

D' Argenteau 
And the Empress? 

Sophie 
[She is becoming superb.] 
The devil damn the Empress. Tell this to your 
righteous, your very righteous Empress. [And 
then with sublime heroics.] Tell her that Sophie 
Arnould is mistress in name only. 

D'Argenteau 
Then you refuse? 

Sophie 
Yes, I refuse. 

D'Argenteau 
[Sinister ly.] 
I do not think that Saint-Florentin will be 
pleased to hear the story. 

Sophie 
No, nor Paris either. Does Your Excellency 
imagine that I intend to tell it? 



180 SOPHIE [Act II 

D'Argenteau 
Then, Madame, there is but one way. 
[He steps towards her,} 

Sophie 
Yes, and that is a way you haven't thought of. 

D'Argenteau 
What? 

[He comes still nearer,] 

Sophie 
Don't come near me. I have suffered the dan- 
ger of your presence far too long already. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, I — 

Sophie 
Out of a sense of pity I have spared you as long 
as this. But this last approach is too much. It 
tears the bandage from my eyes. It shows me in 
a blinding flash the awful menace that you are. 

D'Argenteau 
Is this a scene from the opera? 

Sophie 
No, it is a chapter of the truth. [And then 
shrinking back from him.} Do you know your- 
self? 



Act II] SOPHIE 181 

D'Argenteau 
[Misreading her.] 
For seven generations I can trace my noble blood. 

Sophie 
Make it seventy, what difference does it make? 
Don't you know that the best family-tre^es bear the 
most questionable fruit? You should give your- 
self up before it is loo late. You should walk 
from this house now, this very evening, and go of 
your own volition straight to prison. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, have you gone mad? 

Sophie 
No, this is the sanest moment of my life. Now 
I see that you and all the others like you are a ter- 
rible, an unbelievable danger to society. 

D'Argenteau 
What? 

Sophie 
You are an assassin! 

D'Argenteau 
An assassin? 

Sophie 
Yes, a murderer. Don't you understand me? 
An assassin. One who kills. 



182 SOPHIE [Act II 

D'Argenteau 
In the name of God, Madame, of what do you 
accuse me? 

Sophie 
Of attempting my life. 

D'Argenteau 
Your life ! 

Sophie 
Yes, mine, — mine! 

D'Argenteau 
Have I held a pistol to your brow? Have I 
poured poison in your wine? 

Sophie 
Bah, those ancient methods are too simple and 
too easily traced. You have chosen a more cun- 
ning way to kill. By schemings more sinister 
and subtle you and the cruel others like you have 
played your murderous game. By devious and 
deadly ways you have killed, killed, killed! 
[And now she is mistress of the theme and in full 
flood of conviction,] But today your day is over 
and from now your perfidious name shall ring 
through time as the first of the devils who paid the 
price for his crime. You are my assassin! Inch 
by inch, day by day you have been killing me. 
You and the others like you, here in France, 
everywhere, even in the remotest interiors of the 



Act II] SOPHIE 183 

dim antipodes, you are slaying people right and 
left; men, women, children, beasts, all the world 
over, are dying every day from the hidden prac- 
tices of such as you. The dead are silent and you, 
the murderers, still keep the secret. But now I, 
Sophie Arnould, the latest and most famous vic- 
tim, I, Sophie, will shout the hideous truth to all 
the world before it is too late. You are my as- 
sassin! You are boring me to death. 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, this is fantastic outrage. 

Sophie 
Is it thus you would defend yourself? No, 
alas, it is the truth. Every day some poor inno- 
cent is bored to death. The greatest doctors in 
France will testify that such deaths are happening 
every day though the poor wretches think it's been 
the plague. It's time that mankind knew the truth, 
terrible and blasting though it is. Do you think 
that I, Sophie Arnould, will be the last unknown 
sacrifice? Hereafter mankind will bless me for 
the fact. I tell you, you are boring me to death. 
If you stay here until tomorrow you will have my 
corpse, my beautiful corpse, on your hands. 

D'Argenteau 
[Very ironic now.] 
Perhaps, Madame, but nevertheless, I think that 
I shall stay. 



184 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
You will stay? 

D'Argenteau 
Yes, Madame, for your eloquence has made you 
more beautiful than ever. 

[He steps closer to her,] 

Sophie 
[Shrinking from him.] 
You will stay? 

D'Argenteau 
Yes, for who will force me to go? 

Sophie 
If not your conscience, then my friends. 

[And she rushes over to the door of the 
library.] 
My friends, my true, my loyal friends, come in. 

D'Argenteau 
What's this? Madame, what are you doing? 
Remember who I am and where you are. 

Sophie 
Too late. Sir, I have not forgotten either. 

D'Argenteau 
Beware, I am Mercy D'Argenteau. 



Act II] SOPHIE 185 

■ 

Sophie 
And I, I am Sophie. My friends, come in, 
come in! 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, you will regret this, if you go too far. 

Sophie 
One cannot go too far to save one's life. 

D'Argenteau 
We shall see. 

Sophie 
Yes, we shall see. My friends, come in! 
Come in! 

[And the gendarmes with the bottles in 
their hands and most of the contents in their 
stomachs crowd in, followed by The Abbe.] 

Sophie 
[Magnificently, pointing to D'Argenteau.] 
Soldiers of France, I command you to arrest 
that man! 

D'Argenteau 
[His rage mounting.] 
Madame, I have had enough of this opera 
bouffe. 

Sophie 
It's just the beginning, Your Excellency. The 
curtain has just gone up. 



186 SOPHIE [Act II 

D'Argenteau 

Madame, you are indeed mad. This has gone 
too far. 

Sophie 
It goes still further. [Then with a thrilling ges- 
ture, for after all she is the greatest actress in 
France,] I have borne with that man for days, 
for weeks. Tomorrow it will be too late. There 
stands my murderer, my assassin. 

[The soldiers spring forward.] 

D'Argenteau 

[Warding off the gendarmes,] 
In the name of the realm of Austria I command 
you to stop! 

Sophie 
This for Austria! [And with a snap of her fin- 
gers she wipes the realm of the Hapsburgs from 
the earth.] There stands my murderer, seize him! 

D'Argenteau 
Stop! 

Sophie 
My murderer, my assassin, seize him, seize him! 

D'Argenteau 
Madame, you or France if needs be will answer 
for this outrage. 

Sophie 
Arrest that man! 



Act II] SOPHIE 187 

D'Argenteau 

[To the soldiers.] 
I warn you, you will sweat in the galleys for this. 

Sophie 
Take him away, take him away! 

[He is almost surrounded by the soldiers 
now. He attempts to draiv his sword, but one 
of the gendarmes rivets his arms behind him.] 

D'Argenteau 
It will cost you your lives, if you touch me 
without a warrant. Madame, command them to re- 
lease me. 

Sophie 

[And sarcasm stalks triumphant in her 
voice.] 
Release you! Choiseul has spoken. The law's 
the law. You are doomed! 

D'Argenteau 

Choiseul! What's that? Bid these brutes un- 
hand me. 

Sophie 
Wliat! You call "brutal" the chivalrous pro- 
tecting strength of France? 

D'Argenteau 
Bid them uph^nd me. There is no warrant for 
my arrest, 



188 SOPHIE [Act II 

Sophie 
Justice needs no warrant! 

D'Argenteau 
[For by this last thread he hangs to save his 
dignity,] 
The warrant, the warrant! On your life dare 
touch me without a warrant! 

Sophie 
[For she is ready as you may have 
guessed,] 
Here is the warrant then! [And from her 
bosom she tears the letter from which hangs the 
ribbon and the seal of France.] Listen, my men. 
[And she reads.] "The testimony of Madame and 
her learned physician has been heard by me. 
Hereby I do command the arrest of Mercy D'Argen- 
teau as a danger to the State of France. Signed 
by me this day, Choiseul." [And now she looks 
up for the men are ready.] And here's the seal. 
You know the seal. [As indeed they do.] Now 
do your duty, drag that murderer from my house. 

D'Argenteau 
[Hoarse with anger.] ' 

Your house! 

Sophie 
Well, your house then, what difference does it 
make in whose house you commit the murder? 
[The soldiers have surrounded him.] 



Act II] SOPHIE 189 

D'Argenteau 
[Shrieking now for in his rage all traces 
of formality have deserted him,] 
The Minister of Police, the Count de Saint- 
Florentin will hear of this perfidious conspiracy 
and base assault upon my person. 

Sophie 
Take him away! Take him away! 

D'Argenteau 
Madame wished to spend the night alone. 

Sophie 

[And her tone tells many things.] 
Alone? 

D'Argenteau 
She will, she will, alone in a cell at Fort Eveque. 
The Majesty of Austria has been laid upon. Wars 
have been started for less than this. 

Sophie 
[Topping his tone,] 
Take him away. Go! Go! You have seen the 
warrant. 

[The soldiers are dragging him out,] 

D'Argenteau 
Yes, I shall go if needs be to the King. 

[And struggling vainly with the tipsy sol- 
diers he is hustled from the room,] 



190 SOPHIE [Act II 

The Abbe 

[In the deepest consternation,] 
Madame, this offence is indeed a grave one. 
That document was forged. 

Sophie 
Forged? Not exactly — but part written and by 
me. 

The Abbe 
Madame, I fear that you have gone too far. 

Sophie 
[Quietly.] i 

Whatever do you mean? 

The Abbe 

He will be avenged, Madame. What if Saint- 
Florentin should come himself tonight with a real 
letter of arrest? 

Sophie 

[With a grave little nod of her head.] 
You dear, worrisome, old Reverence, you, why 
I'm expecting him. 

[And she stands smiling querulously and 
sweetly at The Abbe as the curtain falls.] 



ACT III 

Half -past eleven, which 
leaves Sophie almost alone. 



191 



ACT III 

Behold poor Sophie in a terrible state of agitation 
whilst the First Lackey with most deferential 
respect, as befits a lackey, is attempting to con- 
sole her. 

The First Lackey 
Madame, I assure you everything will be all 
right. 

Sophie 

But where, where is he? 

The First Lackey 
The Count has perhaps not yet reached the Bar- 
racks. 

Sophie 

What? Haven't you in the same time been to 
Fort Eveque and back? Something has gone 
wrong. 

The First Lackey 

Madame, I assure you. 

Sophie 
And besides, I told you to drive slowly. 

The First Lackey 
Madame, I rode. 

193 



194 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
[She is pacing up and down.] 
What difference? What difference? 

The First Lackey 
With me there was but one horse and begging 
your pardon, Madame, with two horses twice as 
much may happen as with one. Besides, Madame, 
I did not have a tragedy on my mind. 

Sophie 
What? 

The First Lackey 

Well, you see, Madame, the Count may have at 
any moment stopped the coach because its motion 
interfered with his line of thought. That's the 
chief reason, Madame, that I did not take up liter- 
ature as my profession. I could never be sure, 
Madame, when the necessities of life would inter- 
fere with the inspirations or vice versa. Now with 
the Count — 

Sophie 
[Darkly.] 

He may be dead. Who knows? 

The First Lackey 
I don't think so, Madame. 

Sophie 
Has he come back to me for but one fleeting mo- 
ment, and is he now to leave me for ever? [She is 



Act III] SOPHIE 195 

over at the picture.] Dorval! Dorval! What in 
the name of God can be keeping him? 

The First Lackey 
Some fancy. 

Sophie 
Dorval! 

The First Lackey 
You will permit me to share your admiration 
for the Count? He must be the most delightful 
of companions. 

Sophie 
[Tearfully. She is back at the little table.] 
It was here he sat writing his tragedy. 

The First Lackey 
In spite of that, Madame, the most delightful of 
companions. 

Sophie 
Perhaps he has stayed at the Barracks. Maybe 
he has enlisted and is now on his way to all the pic- 
turesque dangers of America. He hasn't seen me 
for several weeks, but still his moods, his sudden 
caprices — 

The First Lackey 
Ah, Madame, they are so delicious. Imagine 
the delightful society of a companion whose next 
act is always a mystery. Now I can imagine the 
Count about to kiss Madame's fingers and — 



196 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
Don't! What were you saying? [She is at the 
window now,^ I have not been listening. 

The First Lackey 
That's what Madame thinks, but the truth is that. 
Madame has been listening, listening to my harm- 
less babble and at the same time straining her ear 
to hear the rumble of the Count's coach on the cob- 
bles, listening to the young lady who every now 
and then begins to weep in the little blue room be- 
yond the boudoir, hearkening to the fears in her 
heart and at the same time to the Abbe turning the 
leaves of his book in the library. 

Sophie 
Dorval! Dorvall 

The First Lackey 
Madame, I have observed that heaven always pro- 
tects the fantastic and the unsober. 

Sophie 
Of course, as a reward for their trying to be 
something different to what a stupid fate would 
have them be, and in the meantime, what has be- 
come of him? I think you had better ride to the 
Barracks in the Rue Sainte Margarette. 

The First Lackey 
If Madame so wishes it, but I have no doubt that 



Act III] SOPHIE 197 

the Count has already left the Barracks. Some- 
thing may have detained him. 

Sophie 
What? What? 

The First Lackey 
Madame, so many things may have detained the 
Count. He may have stopped to write a sonnet 
about the palace gardens in the starlight, or per- 
haps he may have seen an enemy and insisted on 
finishing a duel for which he will again be sent to 
Fort Eveque. 

Sophie 
Is that how you would console me? 

The First Lackey 
With a man of the Count's oddities I shouldn't 
be surprised if he didn't get back before morning 
or again if — ^Madame, that is a coach, it is stop- 
ping at the door. 

Sophie 
At last, at last! Never again will I let him out 
of my sight. One never knows what he'll do and 
where he'll do it. Without warning he might sail 
right off to Bohemia. Dorval! Dorval! Yes, 
that's his step on the stairs. [Then to The 
Lackey.] Quick, go in to the library. Refill the 
Abbe's lamp. Tell him if he is reading the Bible 
to turn to Voltaire. I want him to keep awake. 

[And The First Lackey, bowing, exits.] 



198 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
[At the door, her arms wide open, ready to 
greet an eternity in breeches,^ 
Dorval darling, Dorval! 
[But it is Rosalie.] 

Sophie 
[Starting back.^ 
A thousand devils, you!!!! 

Rosalie 
What, my dear Sophie, you are still a little hys- 
terical? 

Sophie 
What have you come back for? 

Rosalie 
[From the bottom of her great, great heart, ^ 
Can you ask? My Sophie is ill. My Sophie 
should not be left alone. 

Sophie 
Your Sophie's better. 

Rosalie 
[Shaking her head.^ 
Oh, no, you're not. You're still pale. Abiga- 
lette says she never saw any one as pale as you were. 

Sophie 
What do / care what she says? 



Act III] SOPHIE 199 

Rosalie 
Rosalie does. She says you were as pale as a 
lone lily in the middle of a lake. What the middle 
of the lake has to do with it I don't know. 

Sophie 

[Her tiny toes tapping the floor. ^ 
Nor I. I'm better, I tell you. 

Rosalie 
[Determinedly. ] 
I do not think so, dear. You are very ill. Half 
of Paris will be at the curtains of your bed to- 
morrow. 

Sophie 
Wondering who is on the other side. I am bet- 
ter I tell you. Now you must drive home. Your 
Sophie is herself again. 

Rosalie 

You talk like all invalids. They always think 
they're better, when they are far from well. [She 
lets down a lock of her hair.^ 

Sophie 
Take it off, dear, take it off. But why are you 
doing that? 

Rosalie 

In a moment I shall put on my little cap. I am 
going to stay all night. 



200 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
[And her smile is not what even a careless 
optimist could call happy.] 
Are you, dear? 

Rosalie 

Oh, I don't mind. Sophie, these attacks do not 
agree with you. You look twenty years older. 

Sophie 
I may look it, but you always were. 

Rosalie 
You look wretched, wretched. 

[Sophie goes over to the mirror and begins 
dabbing her cheeks with rouge, 1 

Sophie 
There, that will bring the roses back. Every 
now and then nature needs a helping hand. Does 
that look better, dear? 

Rosalie 
What difference does it make when you're going 
straight to bed? 

Sophie 

[Coming over to her.] 
This. I will tell you something in confidence. 
I imagine all the male angels are watching me when 
I sleep. 



Act III] SOPHIE 201 

Rosalie 
I told the Maestro I would sit up all night and 
nurse you. 

Sophie 

[And now her tone is threatening.^ 
The Maestro will be lonely. 

Rosalie 
And your voice, dear? 

Sophie 
So it's that, is it? You think it's gone, do you? 
Well, listen. [And she magnificently throws off a 
bravura passage which might crown the art of any 
soprano.] What do you think of that, eh? Ros- 
alie, you could sell what's left of your soul to the 
devil and never, my enormous step-sister of Eu- 
terpe, would you be able to sing like that. 

Rosalie 
No? But there are some others who understand 
my voice. 

Sophie 
None better than I. You have the most beauti- 
ful asthma in all of Europe. 

Rosalie 
Maestro Gluck is very worried about you. 

Sophie 
-!Go home and console him then. Sing him to 
sleep if your talk is not sufficient. 



202 SOPHIE [Act III 

Rosalie 
[Passively sitting down.'\ 
How nervous Sophie seems. 

Sophie 
[ With determination, ] 
I am. I am. 

[She is about to pull the bell-rope.^ 

Rosalie 
The longer I stay the more I realize you shouldn't 
be left alone. 

Sophie 
No? 

[And her fingers are twitching, 1 

Rosalie 
Not even your three lackeys could persuade me 
to go. You are very, very ill. 

Sophie 
Oh, why did I get rid of all those soldiers? 

Rosalie 
Soldiers? 

Sophie 
[Pointing to the library.] 
Yes, in there. 

Rosalie 
Where? 



Act III] SOPHIE 203 

Sophie 
They were strong. Two might have been enough 
for you. 

Rosalie 
What are you saying? Darling, aren't you wor- 
ried about yourself? 

Sophie 
In Paris, these days, it seems necessary to have 
the house full of soldiers if one wants to spend the 
night alone. 

Rosalie 
You must go in and lie down. You have fever. 
Your words mean nothing. 

Sophie 
Oh, yes, they do, yes, they do. Now you must 
go, Rosalie. 

Rosalie 
[Shaking her head,^ 
Oh no, no. 

Sophie 

Oh, yes, yes. [She has taken the vase from the 
harpsichord.] I've never cared much for this. 
[She points to the design.] The cupids are over- 
dressed. I shouldn't mind if it were broken. 
[She is weighing it threateningly in her hand.] 
Darling, I wish to be alone, and quickly, quickly. 



204 SOPHIE [Act III 

Rosalie 
Doctor Mesmer is back in Paris. You are very 
excited. I'll send my coach for him. 

Sophie 
I don't want Doctor Mesmer. 

Rosalie 
Do you know what you are saying? 

Sophie 

I want no doctors. They are never sincere un- 
less they carry a gun. 

Rosalie 
But Doctor Mesmer. He will bleed you or look 
into your eyes and presto! [She makes a gesture 
dismissing all earthly ills.^ 

Sophie 
I don't want your Mesmer. I sent him my dog 
who was ill. Two days after he sent my Lulu back 
to me quite cured. The next day my Lulu died. 
But thanks to your Doctor Mesmer she died in per- 
fect health. You can spare yourself the trouble. 

Rosalie 
You are no longer in a condition to judge for 
yourself. Before you were white and now you are 
red. 

Sophie 

Yes, and in a minute something is going to be 



Act III] SOPHIE 205 

blue if you don't go. [She is again suspiciously 
handling the vase.^ I said I never cared for this 
bit of Sevres. 

'v. 

Rosalie 

[A little frightened now,^ 
What do you mean? 

Sophie 
What do you think I mean. [The sound of a 
coach.] Isn't that a coach? [And now she is al- 
most adrift on her anger.] Get out, get out. 

Rosalie 
But— 

Sophie 
[The floodgates are open.] 
You came here hoping I was dead or dumb, 
didn't you? Well, go back and tell your Maestro 
that I am strong again and, damn you, take this 
with you for a souvenir! ! ! 

[And with a shriek of rage she flings the 
vase at Rosalie's head. It misses her, hits 
the panel of the wall, and falls splintered to 
the floor.] 

Sophie ' 

There, I'm a woman after all. 

[The noise has brought The Abbe rushing 
into the room.] 



206 SOPHIE [Act III 

The Abbe 

[Alarmed,] 
What is it, my daughter? 

Sophie 
[Calmly, almost sweetly, for the moments 
tempest is partly spent.] 
At pitching I was always poor, but when it 
comes to pitch — ah, that's a different matter. 
Shall I sing for you? 

Rosalie 

[Edging towards the door,] 
Sophie, — 

Sophie 
I might still throw the mirror or one of the 
smaller chairs, but I'm feeling better. 

Rosalie 
[Gingerly approaching The Abbe.] 
Father, you and I had better put the poor trem- 
bling thing to bed. 

Sophie 

Look out. [Now she is growling like an angry 
puppy,] Oh, don't you come near me. 

Rosalie 
[To The Abbe.] 
You go first. I don't think she's fond of me. 



Act III] SOPHIE 207 

Sophie 
[With a sudden cry, for an idea has come 
to her,} 
Tell her, Your Reverence, what terrific danger 
she runs in staying here. 

The Abbe 

[At a loss.] 
My child — 

Sophie 

Then I must divulge the horror of it. 

Rosalie 
What is it— look — she is about to swoon. 

Sophie 
Don't come near me. Don't come near me on 
peril of your life. 

Rosalie 
This is more than I expected. 

Sophie 

Do you know what a leper is? 

[Rosalie emits a sudden shriek.} 

Sophie 
Do you know the terrible danger of coming near 
a leper? 

Rosalie 
Good God! Where is Doctor Mesmer? 



208 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
Well, I am not a leper. 

The Abbe 
My child, my child! 

[He is alarmed, for Sophie seems pos- 
sessed.} 

Sophie 
But something more deadly, more terrible and 
more new. [Then with a voice appallingly sepul- 
chral in tone,] Rosalie, you are in danger here. 
[Rosalie shrinks further back.] Now you shall 
hear the torturous truth. Tomorrow you may be 
dead. 

Rosalie 
My God! 

Sophie 
Keep away, keep away! 

Rosalie 

[Literal though lashed to the mast.] 
I'm not coming nearer. 

Sophie 
I've got that terrible new English disease. 

Rosalie 
Oh! 



Act III] SOPHIE 209 

Sophie 
You see before you the first victim of that awful 
ailment called inoculation. Go, for your own 
sake, go. 

Rosalie 
[Trembling for all her size.] 
Thank God, Doctor Mesmer is still in Paris. 

[She is about to rush from the room, A 
sound of a coach stopping,] 

Sophie 

At last it's he. Go! Go! 

[De Lauraguais' voice is heard in the hall,] 



Sophie 
[Shrieking.] 



Go! 



[Rosalie is about to leave by the centre 
door.] 

Sophie 

[Pointing to the library,] 
That way. Do not come near me. That way, 
through the library. Bathe swiftly in sulphur 
water and you may live to tell the tale. 

[And Rosalie precipitately rushes off 
through the library while De Lauraguais en- 
ters at the main door centre,] 



210 SOPHIE [Act III 

De Lauraguais I 

[Smiling querulously,] 
Is this some quiet moment in the opera? 

Sophie 
The rehearsal is over. 

De Lauraguais 
And? 

Sophie 
I've just sent Rosalie flying. She swore she'd 
spend the night with me. 

De Lauraguais 
Indeed? 

The Abbe 
And this inoculation? 

Sophie 
The first thought that came into my head. I had 
to get rid of her somehow. 

The Abbe 
[His hand lifted as though to call down 
the forgiveness of God,] 
And what sort of a night do you think that poor 
lady will spend? 

Sophie 

Your Reverence, how should I know? [Then to 
De Lauraguais.] And where have you been? 
What have you been doing? 



Act III] SOPHIE 211 

De Lauraguais 
Waking a Corporal, who woke a Sergeant, who 
woke a Lieutenant, who spoke to a Captain. 

Sophie 
And? 

De Lauraguais 
[With enthusiasm.} 
Sophie, you've never in your life seen anything 
as beautiful as the shadows that the moon casts in 
the Barracks yard. 

Sophie 
Shadows? 

[But she of all should know what shadows 
are to him,] 

De Lauraguais 
Yes. I asked the Captain's permission to make 
a little sketch by lamplight before I told him what 
I came for. 

Sophie 
You did, darling? 

[And even though shes angry she cannot 
suppress her smile,] 

De Lauraguais 
It took me half an hour and then I tore it up, 
though Da Vinci might have been proud of it. 

Sophie 
And in the meantime your Sophie has been pac- 



212 SOPHIE [Act III 

ing the floor in agony thinking that something had 
happened. 

De Lauraguais 
It has. 

Sophie 
[Starting w/?.] 
He has come? 

The Abbe 
[Reading Sophie's face.] 
Madame, control yourself. 

De Lauraguais 
Why, just what you expected. 

Sophie 
Who? 

De Lauraguais 
The groom. 

Sophie 
[With a terrific gasp of relief,] 
Of course, I'd forgotten the groom. 

De Lauraguais 
He's waiting now. [He goes over to the main 
door,] Captain, won't you come in? 

[And Etienne Mars, a handsome and 
rather shy young soldier, enters and stands 
waiting, his cap in his hand.] 



Act III] SOPHIE 213 

Sophie 
A moment before you say a word. Let me have 
a look at you. Yes, at a first glance I can say I 
like you, but then. Your Reverence, I like all sol- 
diers. A uniform has a most direct, not to say, un- 
mentionable effect on me. Soldiers, murderers, 
priests and poets are my pets. [Then to Etienne.] 
Good evening, my lad, good evening. 

Etienne 
[Bowing his best, though a little clumsily,] 
Madame. 

Sophie 
No, I don't think you can ever qualify for His 
Majesty's ballet. 

Etienne 
Madame, I — 

Sophie 
But, of course, you don't know why you're here, 
do you? [She points to De Lauraguais.] Didn't 
Monsieur tell you? 

De Lauraguais 
How could I, Sophie, when I didn't know? 

Etienne 

Madame, I do not understand what this is all 

about. In a hurry I am rushed from the Barracks 

on some important orders from the Court. In 

the coach I try to think, to wonder what is happen- 



214 SOPHIE [Act III 

ing. I question this gentleman here, but he looks 
at me very mysteriously and whenever we pass 
a street lamp, he insists on stopping the coach and 
reading me long speeches from a manuscript, 
speeches, which as far as I could understand them 
had nothing to do with me or the life of a soldier. 

Sophie 
How wicked of you, Dorval. [Then to the boy.] 
You are Etienne Mars? 

Etienne 
At your service, Madame. 

Sophie 
You are a soldier and unhappy. 

Etienne 
Madame? 

Sophie 
You do not stand as though you took pride in 
your uniform. 

Etienne 
[Angrily,] 
It is this uniform which has given them the power 
to [he stops, why should he go on before these 
strangers] the power to — 

Sophie 
To send you to America, when you leave your life 
in France. 



Act III] SOPHIE 215 

Etienne 
[Flushing,] 
Madame, I would give my life for France. 

Sophie 
Of course, but your heart, my lad, your heart? 

Etienne 
Madame, — 

[But he is silent,] 

Sophie 
[Smiling,] 
Your heart? 

Etienne 
I— I— 

[She is looking at him. He looks straight 
back at her, but is still silent,] 

Sophie 
[Stepping nearer to him, her hand kindly 
laid upon his shoulder,] 
Of course, my lad, I understand. It were less 
brave to speak. I knew that I would like you, but 
there is still a test. We must study your control 
when under fire. 

Etienne 
[Straightening up,] 
My record at the School of Arms, Madame, — 



216 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
The School of Arms, la, la, sham battles and tar- 
gets of straw. Now you must stand a genuine at- 
tack, my brave young soldier. [Then suddenly.]^ 
Attention. 

[And Etienne, a bit mystified, is standing 
as though on parade, as Sophie flings open 
the door that leads to her boudoir,^ 

Sophie 
[Her voice lifted,^ 
Will you please come in? [Then to Etienne.] 
Watch out, my lad, the enemy is charging. 

[And ViviENNE stands on the threshold. 
There is a gasp of astonishment from Etienne 
but he doesnt relax his military attitude until 
the next second with a cry of delight the girl 
is in his arms,^ 

Vivienne 
Etienne! Etienne!- — 

[And The Abbe and Sophie and De Laur- 
AGUAis stand watching them, A pause J\ 

De Lauraguais 

[After a moment.^ 

Yes, yes, this is all very charming, but if some- 
thing doesn't happen soon they may stand that way 
in that picturesque embrace for ever. 



Act III] SOPHIE 217 

Sophie 
They seem to like each other, don't they? But 
something is going to happen, for now they'll be 
married. [Then to The Abbe.] That's what I 
kept you here for. 

The Abbe 
But her father? 

Sophie 
Nonsense, isn't marriage better than death? 

De Lauraguais 
That's a question that's open to discussion. 

Sophie 
We shall be witnesses. Well, Your Reverence, 
begin, begin. 

[Etienne and Vivienne face about and on 
either side of them stand Sophie and De 
Lauraguais.] 

The Abbe 

[His hand lifted.] 
My children — 

[The loud rumbling of a coach on the cob- 
bles, which suddenly comes to a stop at the 
door. Sophie looks up.] 

The Abbe 
My children. 



218 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
You said that before. 

The Abbe 

[Reverently,] 
This is a moment — 

[And indeed it is. For The First Lackey 
stands in the doorway and the way he looks 
at Sophie is something that she understands,] 

The First Lackey 
Madame, a word with you. 

Sophie 
[Her voice a little unsteady.] 
Well, what is it? 

[And very respectfully he is over next to 
her and is whispering something to her behind 
his hand,] 

Sophie 
Good God ! But they have come too quickly. 

The First Lackey 
Madame will ring when she is ready to be ar- 
rested? 

Sophie 

Yes. [Then she is over to the others.] Quick, 

in there. Finish the wedding in there. [She 

points to the library.] Make haste, make haste! 

Weddings are always twice too long. Cut short 



Act III] SOPHIE 219 

the blessings and with all expedition do the deed. 
Do not linger at the kissing. There'll be time for 
that, though the time's not now. Bless you, my 
children. Go! Go! [Then suddenly,^ And 
take this for your gift. [From the harpsichord she 
takes the diamond crescent and gives it to Vivi- 
ENNE.] It is the symbol of the chaste Diana. 
Wear it tonight and tomorrow have the setting 
changed. Quick, quick. [And they exit and she 
turns to The First Lackey.] Now then, show 
them in. 

The First Lackey 

[And even his composure is not quite poised 
at perfection.] 
Them, Madame? It is Saint-Florentin himself. 

Sophie 
[As a finality,] 
I am Sophie Arnould herself. Let him come 



m. 



[And The Lackey exits and Sophie is 
weakly lying on the couch when the terrible 
Saint-Florentin, Chief of Police and mar- 
tinet of morals, stands in the doorway, and be- 
hind him are crowding several lieutenants of 
the police.] 

Saint-Florentin 

[Sternly.] 
Madame! 



220 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
[Quietly,] 
Sir? 

Saint-Florentin 

Madame, need I explain the meaning of my visit 
at this hour of the night? 

Sophie 
Am I to interpret it as a compliment? 

Saint-Florentin 

Any interpretation that suits you, Madame, so 
that we arrive swiftly at the facts. 

Sophie 
Ah, that allows me many ways out. 

Saint-Florentin 

It is useless, Madame, all the exits to your house 
and garden are guarded. 

Sophie 
I would expect you to be literal. Your profes- 
sion makes you so. I wasn't thinking of a way out 
of my house. I have no intention of leaving. 

Saint-Florentin 
No, Madame? 

Sophie 
[Echoing, like a dove.] 

No. 



Act III] SOPHIE 221 

Saint-Florentin 
Indeed? 

[He signals to two of his lieutenants, who 
step further into the room,] 

Sophie 
I wasn't thinking of a way out, but of another 
way out — of a way to convince you that whatever 
you have come for is a mistake. Won't you sit 
down? 

Saint-Florentin 

I have come to arrest you. There is no need 
of sitting. 

Sophie 
I don't see why you shouldn't. There is no rea- 
son why the most disagreeable things in life 
shouldn't be done charmingly. 

Saint-Florentin 

Madame, if you have any intention of formulat- 
ing a code of manners, I can assure you a lengthy, 
quiet time in which to elaborate your theories. 

Sophie 
Which means? 

Saint-Florentin 

That within the hour you will enjoy the silence of 
Fort Eveque. 



222 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
[Pleasantly.} 
Fort Eveque. 

Saint-Florentin 
I make myself clear, Madame? 

Sophie 
[Getting up,] 
Quite. 

Saint-Florentin 

Are you ready? 

Sophie 
Well, not on the second. 

Saint-Florentin 
And what have you to say? 

Sophie 
[Glancing towards the library. 1 
That I am sure your duty would come first with 
you in the face of all personal feeling whatsoever. 

Saint-Florentin 
My duty to my King and to my office first. Af- 
ter that, Madame, what touches me is my own. 
[And his voice is a little unsteady.} 

Sophie 
Ah, if there were only something that could 
soften your heart, I would plead to you by that for 
mercy. 



Act III] SOPHIE 223 

Saint-Florentin 
Madame, in your case there is nothing. 

Sophie 
No? 

Saint-Florentin 
You have heard me. 

Sophie 
[A step nearer to him.] 
And won't you listen to me? 

Saint-Florentin 

[Drawing back.] 
You will be heard before the bar at Fo-rt Eveque. 

Sophie 
[Sitting down.] 
With what am I charged? 

Saint-Florentin 
With base disloyalty to our Sovereign, Louis, 
King of France. 

\_He stands erect and he and the soldiers 
salute the name of the King.] 

Sophie 
[Imitating them.] 
How perfectly the cue is taken. It's a pity we 
can't do things as patly as that at the opera. [She 
sings a few notes.] La, la, la. In spite of every- 
thing still there. 



224 SOPHIE [Act III |l 

Saint-Florentin 
Madame, I have heard enough. 

Sophie 
That isn't very complimentary. Now as to the 
charge? 

[From a signal from Saint-Florentin the 
lieutenants step forward.^ 

Sophie 
Wait! 

[Her voice is lifted with her hand.^ 

Saint-Florentin 
Madame ! 

Sophie 
I have the right to demand in what way I have 
insulted the King. 

Saint-Florentin 
No explanation, — 

Sophie 
[Taking advantage of the words.] 
No, you are right. [And now a little more in 
the tone of injured heroism.] I, disloyal to the 
King, I, who have been his servant since my child- 
hood, I, who was stolen from my mother's arms to 
serve with my beauty and my art the pleasure of 
my Sovereign. Paris shall judg,e whether \ have 



Act III] SOPHIE 225 

served and sung to no avail. How have I failed 
or lacked in loyalty? 

Saint-Florentin 

You have shown his Majesty disloyalty by an out- 
rage committed on the person of a guest to the 
throne of France. He has been criminally mal- 
treated on a warrant which was forged. Are we 
coming nearer to the facts? 

Sophie 
[Her eyelids quivering a little.] 
Yes, as you tell the tale. 

Saint-Florentin 

The deduction, Madame, follows. After the 
truth the punishment. 

Sophie 
[She has again got up.] 
Of course, when has truth been born save of sor- 
row? But you will, you must hear me. 

Saint-Florentin 
I told you that at the prison you would be heard. 

Sophie 
What's ever heard in prison but injustice and 
the clank of keys? The prospect's not inviting. 
No. [Then with determination.] No, I will not 
go. 



226 SOPHIE [Act III 

[And she sits down again comfortably ar- 
ranging the pillows behind her head.^ 

Saint-Florentin 

I advise you. It will be less pleasant if you 
force me to use force. 

Sophie 
You are right. It will be. [And her little 
fists are pounding one of the pillows.] See how I 
can use my fists. And my teeth, my nice white 
teeth [and she is smiling at him] they are as strong 
as they are pretty. And my nails are ready, and 
if needs be, sir, my toes — though I am no dancer, 
sir, my toes. 

[A little foot it threateningly pointed at 
him,] 

Saint-Florentin 

Five soldiers guard the door there [he points to 
the main door, centre], and five below surround 
your garden. 

Sophie 
Ten to one. You compliment my sex, but from 
the beginning we have been the stronger. 

[And a far away smile begins in her eyes 
as she half glances towards the library.] 

Saint-Florentin 

Madame, are you proud of the means that women 
such as you have used to gain their power? 



Act III] SOPHIE 227 

Sophie 
Judged from a woman's standpoint, yes. But I 
was not thinking of myself, but of my mother. 

Saint-Florentin 
[His lips tightening, perhaps in a sneer. ^ 
Your mother, Madame? If you think thus to 
move my heart. 

Sophie 

[With a gay little laugh.] 
I was not thinking of my mother, but of the 
mother of us all. One memorable day in Eden 
was not woman's weakness stronger than the 
strength of man? But then perhaps you do not 
care for apples. 

Saint-Florentin 
You quote the scriptures. Has your life profited 
by them? 

Sophie 
Not before perhaps, but now if you will let me 
I'll play the repentant Magdalen. If I am guilty 
there was a reason. 

Saint-Florentin 
[Warding off the threatening emotions.] 
At the proper time you will be heard. 

Sophie 
[And the centre of the stage is hers.] 
No, now, now! 



228 SOPHIE [Act III 

Saint-Florentin 
[Firmly,] 
Madame. 

Sophie 
[Her eyes flashing.] 
Did this octogenarian of an ourangutan tell you 
why I ordered him to leave my house? [And then, 
with outraged modesty.] Did that vile old man 
hint to you the orders of his viler empress? 

Saint-Florentin 
No reasons were sufficient for this outrage. 

Sophie 
[Tearfully.] 
Ah, there speaks the callous heart of man. 

Saint-Florentin 

A criminal assault was made at your command. 
Do you deny it? 

Sophie 
No, I glory in it and I will not go to Fort Eveque. 

Saint-Florentin 

Only for tonight, Madame. Tomorrow you will 
be sent to Metz. 

Sophie 
[For now she is really frightened.] 
Metz! No! For tomorrow I am to sing for 
Paris and for Gluck. 



Act III] SOPHIE 229 

Saint-Florentin 
If you have cause, Madame, address your appeal 
from prison to the King. My duty and my word 
are law. 

Sophie 
Duty! Law! Do you think I'll spend the night 
in jail because of those two ridiculous old preju- 
dices? 

Saint-Florentin 
Not only tonight, Madame, but time is passing, 
it is useless. 

Sophie 
No, not yet. You will at least permit me to 
change my gown. I will put on something lighter 
since Metz is in the south. 

Saint-Florentin 
You will wear the usual garb of the prison. 

Sophie 
Why, that wouldn't become me at all. I must 
change. You can't imagine how adorable I look 
in my dress of cream and garnet. 

Saint-Florentin 

Madame, it makes no difference to me how you 
look. 

Sophie 
[With the most bewitching of glances.] 
Oh, it will when you see me. I will fetch the 



230 SOPHIE [Act III 

gown. [She starts towards one of the doors. The 
soldiers interpose,] Oh, very well, I'll wear some- 
thing else if you insist. I have a salmon crepe all 
worked in emerald parrots. That ought to be very 
gay in jail. It will be nice for the other prisoners. 

Saint-Florentin 

[His eyebrows meet in anger.] 
I've heard enough of this. 

Sophie 
And one thing more. I must take along my little 
bonnet edged with cherries. 

Saint-Florentin 

[Terribly.] 
Madame, come. 

Sophie 
[Pathetically.] 
If I must go to prison let me go looking my best. 
Let it seem as though I liked it. 

Saint-Florentin 

You will go now and as you are. 

[He makes a sign to the soldiers.] 

Sophie 
For the love of God, a moment. 

[She backs against the door of the library 
and is attempting to hear what is going on in- 
side.l^ 



Act III] SOPHIE: 231 

Saint-Florentin 
Madame. 

[The soldiers again step forward.^ 

Sophie 
Dorval would come in if it's over. Have you 
any idea how long it takes to get married? I've 
never been, you know. 

Saint-Florentin 
What, Madame? 

Sophie 
Nothing. My mind wanders. 

[She is back in the centre of the room. 
The soldiers have taken her by the arms.^ 

Sophie 

Just a moment, half a moment, a tenth of a mo- 
ment! Let go of me, you horrid men! The lit- 
tlest part of a moment! 

Saint-Florentin 

[To the Soldiers.^ 
You know your orders? 

[One of the soldiers takes a pair of wrist 
irons from his pockets.^ 

Sophie 
Oh, those terrible things. Never, never! 

[She breaks from the soldiers and throws 
herself at the feet of Saint-Florentin.] 



232 SOPHIE: [Act III 

Saint-Florentin 
[Very sternly,] 
Madame, these melodramatic gestures are in 
vain. 

Sophie 
Perhaps they are, but I can't help it. You see, 
I'm a prima donna. 

Saint-Florentin 
[Fiercely.] 
Get up. 

Sophie 
[Clinging to his knees.] 
Sir, by my honour as a woman — 

Saint-Florentin 

[Struggling from her.] 
Your honour as a woman! 

Sophie 
Well, if that doesn't mean anything to you, then 
by my fame as a singer. I swear I will not at- 
tempt to escape. 

Saint-Florentin 
Get up. This will avail you nothing. 

Sophie 
Not me, perhaps, not me, but have you any idea 
how long it takes to get married? 



Act III] SOPHIE 233 

Saint-Florentin 

[His anger mounting,^ 
What has marriage to do with this? 

Sophie 
Who knows? Grant me this moment even 
though it avail me nothing. [She still has hold of 
him.] I won't let go until you do. 

Saint-Florentin 

[To his lieutenants.] 
Wait at the door. 

[The soldiers exit.] 

Sophie 
Thanks. Thanks. 

Saint-Florentin 

I will give you till the hand of your clock has 
passed the minute. 

Sophie 
It's a pretty clock, isn't it? 

Saint-Florentin 
[Fiercely.] 
I said a minute. 

Sophie 
[Watching him very closely now.] 
gir, if you Ji^d a daughter — 



234 SOPHIE [Act III 

Saint-Florentin 

[And his hand goes to his heart as though 
suddenly wounded.] 
Madame — 

Sophie 
But I see you haven't. But if you had a daugh- 
ter and she were beseeching you as I am, would 
you not listen? Have you no pity for a woman's 
suffering even though you cannot understand it? 
I am a woman, a poor weak woman. Do not take 
me to Fort Eveque tonight. Just imagine what ef- 
fect it will have on my voice. 

Saint-Florentin 

This is not the first time you have laughed at 
justice and flaunted your \Vild caprices in the face 
of the authorities and the police. 

Sophie 
If you had a daughter would you have expected 
her to have listened to the insults of this diplomat? 

Saint-Florentin 
Do you think your career is not known to us? 

Sophie 
If my days have not been wisely lived it is be- 
cause I have loved too much. [Her voice afloat on 
tears.] My head has always been too weak, my 
heart too strong. 



Act III] SOPHIE 235 

Saint-Florentin 
The minute's over. 

Sophie 
Ah, you are cruel, but if you had a daughter? 

Saint-Florentin 

[With quiet dignity.] 

Madame, I had a daughter and it is women such 

as you and the libertine looseness of the life you 

symbolize that has driven my daughter to her death. 

[And from the library The Abbe's voice 

can be heard in a loud Amen, his sermon has 

been a long one,] 

Sophie 
Her death? 

Saint-Florentin 

Paris has fallen on evil times. An unbridled 
thirst for liberty has poisoned the minds of the 
people and the hearts of our children. There are 
already heard murmurs against the divine right 
of kings and the sacred authority of parents. 

Sophie 
Sir? 

Saint-Florentin 

The word of a father is no longer heard. The 
will of a father is but a gibe for laughter, and why, 
why? 



236 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
[Leaning forward, for she has got him 
where she wants him J] 
Why? 

Saint-Florentin 

Because women such as you are the adored idols 
of the moment. Your licentiousness is deemed a 
virtue and your vile freedom is hailed as the pat- 
tern of all law. 

Sophie 
Is there no time for repentance? 

Saint-Florentin 

But your reign is over. You, and the others like 
you. I swear on this, Madame, on this [and he 
takes from his bosom the letter from Vivienne, wet 
with the tears from the flower vase^^ on this last 
letter from my child. 

Sophie 
Your only child? 

Saint-Florentin 

On this, Madame, I swear that I will make of 
you, of you, Sophie Arnould, so terrible and infam- 
ous an example that hereafter the malodorous his- 
tory of your name and the unbridled looseness of 
your life shall no longer seem a shining virtue and 
example to the innocence and youth of France. 



Act III] SOPHIE 237 

Sophie 
You ought to sing. You can say so much in a 
single breath. 

Saint-Florentin 
[Towering over her,] 
Your name and deeds shall be set down in dis- 
honour, and be assured, Madame, that we shall give 
you all the time you need behind the prison walls of 
Metz to think of this repentance at which you scoff. 

Sophie 

[Her analysis of him complete,] 
You're grim, that's what you are, grim, 

Saint-Florentin 
I am Saint-Florentin and I have spoken. 

Sophie 
Nothing can move your heart? 

Saint-Florentin 
Nothing. 

Sophie 
[A step nearer to the door of the library,] 
What a lecture he's giving them. But by now it 
surely must be over. 

Saint-Florentin 

[But his lecture is not the one she means.] 
It is, Madame, you have heard. Are you ready? 



238 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 

One second now. 

Saint-Florentin 

[About to open the centre door.] 
You will go without force or must they drag you 
out? 

Sophie 

No, that has been done here once before this 
evening. 

Saint-Florentin 
Madame. 

[And with a commanding gesture he points 
towards the door.] 

Sophie 
And I cannot take my bonnet with the cherries? 
[She begins to seem to sob.] 

Saint-Florentin 
Your tears are wasted. 

Sophie 
[With a last melodramatic plea for mercy.] 
And is there no chance of my escape? I am a 
woman. Think of your dead daughter. Is there 
no chance? 

Saint-Florentin 
As much chance, Madame, as though at this mo- 



Act III] SOPHIE 239 

ment I might see my dead child enter through that 
door. 

Sophie 
[Pointing to the door of the library.] 
No, you mean that one. Oh, I don't know what 
I'm saying. I'm distraught. Pity me, pity me. 
Your dead daughter — enter through that door — and 
if she did? 

Saint-Florentin 
Madame, I will profit by the irony you teach me. 
If she did, then and then only you would be free. 

Sophie 
[The fox is in the trap.] 
It is an age of miracles. [And she actually 
stands there winking at him.] You granted me a 
minute which was mostly taken up with your horrid 
lecture. Now, I shall take one more second and 
that will be mine. 

[And she rushes over to the door of the 
library and in a voice of triumph shouts.] 

Sophie 
If it's over, my blessings, my children, and 
now, come in, come in! [Then as Vivienne and 
Etienne stand in the doorway.] There, you ter- 
rible man you, I give you back your daughter and 
because I know your word is law I am free. 

Saint-Florentin 
What's this? 



240 SOPHIE [Act III 

Sophie 
Oh, don't say you're dreaming. You're not. 
[And vindictively she gives him a terrific pinch.^ 
There, that's the usual test. Your daughter came 
to me, she would either marry Etienne or die. 
You're cruel. I know you are, but not so cruel as 
to wish your child, your only child rather dead than 
married. 

Saint-Florentin 
Vivienne! Vivienne! 

ViVIENNE 

[Her voice trembling.] 
Father! 

Saint-Florentin 

Vivienne, what does this mean? 

Sophie 

It means that if you had been in a more pleasant 
mood and shown better manners that I might have 
invited you to the ceremony. But it's too late now 
and the only way you can make amends is by being 
nice to them. Look at them. Is there anything 
sweeter or sillier than a bride and groom? 

Saint-Florentin 
Madame, you mean? 

Vivienne 
Father, this is my husband. 



Act III] SOPHIE 241 

Saint-Florentin 
[Turning to Sophie.] 
Madame, you, you — 

Sophie 
Of course, if you want to, you can send us all 
to Metz. But what good would that do? And be- 
sides, what a place to spend a honeymoon. 

ViVIENNE 

[Tremblingly, tearfully, coming close to 
him.] 
Father, — father, you will forgive me? 

[He attempts to turn from her, but it is in 
vain and the next second she is in his arms.] 

ViVIENNE 

[Through her sobs.] 
You will forgive me? 

Sophie 

Of course, he will. How else can the comedy 
end? No man is as hard as he thinks, and as for 
us women, — [The clock on the mantelshelf be- 
gins sounding the hour.] Listen, my little clock 
is striking twelve, it is midnight, midnight. To- 
morrow, sir, I sing and, so with your permission, I 
— I — well, I will go to bed. You will let me kiss 
the groom? [And she does so.] Take care of 
your husband, my child. Husbands need it. How 
shy he is, but I like him for it. You've brought 



242 SOPHIE [Act III 

your father a splendid son-in-law. [Then to 
Saint-Florentin.] And perhaps, after all, sir, 
you will acknowledge I am something of a judge of 
men. And now good-night — good-night. 

Saint-Florentin 

Madame, this time you have outmatched me, but 
next time — 

Sophie 
Well, next time I will still be Sophie. 
[And they are gone.] 

Sophie 
At last midnight, midnight. * [She goes over to 
the door of the library. She calls.] Dorval, Dor- 
val. 

[There is a moment's pause and De Laura- 
GUAis enters^ his manuscript in his hand.] 

Sophie 
It is midnight, Dorval. 

De Lauraguais 
And Act Six is still unfinished. 

Sophie 
We are alone. 

De Lauraguais 
Not quite, the Abbe is in the library. 



Act III] SOPHIE 243 

Sophie 
[Calling to His Reverence.] 
Come in. 

The Abbe 
[Entering.] 
Is there something else, my daughter? 

Sophie 
Yes, you must bless our midnight. 

The Abbe 
[A quiet, tolerant smile on his lips, for what 
would you have him do when Sophie bids it?] 
My daughter! 

[His hands are lifted for the blessing.] 

Sophie 
And now go home yourself and dream of para- 
dise. 

The Abbe 
[Helpless, for in the end life survives all 
codes.] 
My children. 

[And The Abbe very thoughtfully, with his 
hands behind his back, exits by the main door, 
centre.] 

Sophie 
[Her voice soft and low.] 
It is midnight, Dorval. 



244 SOPHIE. [Act III 

De Lauraguais 
Ah, what a day I've had. 

Sophie 

But now it is over. 

[She is closer to him.^ 

De Lauraguais 
Yes, all things lead to all ends. Have you ever 
thought of that, Sophie? Today gives birth to to- 
morrow. What has been is the key to all that is. 
There shall be a chapter on that thought in my new 
book of philosophy. 

Sophie 
[Very tenderly, very lovingly, shaking her 
head.] 
Dorval! Dorval! - 

De Lauraguais 

[Very seriously.] 
Have you ever thought of that, Sophie? 

Sophie 
Of what, darling? 

De Lauraguais 
How all things lead to all ends? Have you ever 
realized that a wind blowing a leaf away in Eden 
may be the very reason that you and I are stand- 
ing here. 



Act III] SOPHIE 245 

Sophie 

[And her tone tells a//.] 
Very likely, dear. Very likely. [Her hand is 
on his arm,] Dorvall 

De Lauraguais 
What is it, dear? 

Sophie 
What? 

[And her voice smiles.] 

De Lauraguais 
Such a day, such a day. I'm very tired. 

Sophie 

Very, dear? 

[And somehow one of her exquisite shoul- 
ders has slipped from her gown and the pink 
glow from the candelabras play about her neck 
and DoRVAL is not unmoved by the effect.] 

Sophie 
[Smiling up at him.] 
Very tired, dear? 

De Lauraguais 
[Kissing her shoulder.] 
Well, perhaps not so tired after all. 

[And they embrace and the next second 
they are gone into the boudoir. There is a 
pause and then, The First Lackey, being the 



246 SOPHIE [Act III 

most excellent of servants, comes in to wind the 
clock. He is engaged in this quotidian favour 
to time when a sound arrests him. He 
glances for a moment in the direction of the 
boudoir and then with an expression in his 
eyes which tells of many things, many impor- 
tant things since the beginning of time, he 
quietly, one by one, blows out the candles and 
as the curtain falls is gone. 



3477 
X272 



// C' \ > 9- • " / ^ 



''^■^' :im//^ 






"h q\- 






W W.- .-/, -A 




-^ 4>' ->.. 



y , '^Mf- 









aN 



,-?s- .0 



. o 



1* ^1^ 



rCT^^.''^';. 



.7^>* 






-F^, 



J- 




'-r^ 



y- 







,-:''* -r' 






; - -^y- v^ 


''<. 


N^"" 




^^^ 










A^^' -^f^ 





■^ 





♦ <5t- 




X ^ 




^ J ~>'. 




<o 




■V. . '^ 




-;.-. J- i! f^ 


_ x^-^^ 


' '"^'^ ^ ^^i'^'Ais?^-^^ 




'•"- ' '""'-'' .^" ,0 










'''/ 


s ~ O / 










,^^ 















.. ,v^^' 



<, 



^/ 









' / 









\ 












"■^ * ./ 









\' 



«a ''/ 









X- ,^ 









.> '» 



^-^ 



c^ 



cP 



^ ' " / 



•^00^ 









is'' 






\^^^. 



,0" 



,\ 



-^• 









■% 







